


They Tell Me My Eyes Are Blue

by Mystrana



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Andrew POV, Angst With A Happy End, Eden's Twilight, Exy, First Kiss, Foxes typical violence, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Neil POV, Neil's first time in colombia (aka the noncon drugs Andrew gives him), Pining, Slow Burn, Soulmate AU, This is for people who read the books and thought that they didn't focus enough on just andreil ;p, and Andrew is desperately gay for him, andreil style pining, but like more dramatic, canon adjacent, plot deviates more from canon the further this goes, which is to say that Neil is a loveable idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27608930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystrana/pseuds/Mystrana
Summary: In a world where finding your soulmate was the only way to see color, Neil had always expected he would only hear about how blue the sky was, how green grass looked in the midday sun, how crystal clear the tropical cerulean ocean was in California. But now, as his eyes darted from the walls--pale yellow--to the floor--a deep, dark mahogany--back to Andrew, he guessed maybe he’d been proven wrong. Again.*Neil Josten had resigned himself to dying in black and white. Enter Andrew Minyard: goalkeeper for the PSU Foxes and well known Problem Child.And Neil's soulmate.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 87
Kudos: 393





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I just really love Andrew and Neil and had this idea burning in my brain about the first time they meet, and Neil's world bursting into color and how things go from there. So, please come along for the ride! The gist of canon is there, but as the story goes it will diverge more.
> 
> As always, a huge thank you to Coop for betaing and letting me bounce ideas at a rate quickly approaching constantly.

#  1

It didn’t matter why or how Coach Wymack was at Millport; it didn’t matter that Neil Josten would give almost anything to play college Exy. It  _ couldn’t _ matter, because he had to get out of the stadium unless he wanted the world to know who he really was. 

It didn’t matter that Neil had once clocked a four minute mile, because this time, he wasn’t fast enough. By the time he realized he wasn’t alone in the locker room, it was too late. He couldn’t stop any sooner than a speeding freight train could, and the shining grayscale racquet in front of him slammed into his stomach. 

Neil gasped and choked, his feet failing to hold him upright. On hands and knees, he reached out in front of him, tried to reach the fast fading door, but the shock of pain kept him from gaining any ground. He struggled, desperate to put ground between him and the others, and unable to move an inch.

“God damn it, Minyard,” Wymack said, his voice faraway and buzzing. “This is why we can’t have nice things.”

“Oh, Coach,” came the reply, a voice deep and bored and floating a thousand miles away. “If he was nice, he wouldn’t be any use to us, would he?”

Neil’s world went darker, almost black, the gray of the floor and the light gray of the walls faded into a dim white. He choked back vomit and blinked, hard. 

He looked up to see the face of his attacker, and his world exploded, color bleeding into everything he saw.

“Whoa, Neil, are you ok?” Wymack asked as Neil’s eyes went wide and he sucked in a rush of air that didn’t quite reach his lungs.

“Interesting,” said Andrew Minyard, goalkeeper for the Palmetto State Foxes, his expression even as he spared Neil a single glance.

In a world where finding your soulmate was the only way to see color, Neil had always expected he would only hear about how blue the sky was, how green grass looked in the midday sun, how crystal clear the tropical cerulean ocean was in California. But now, as his eyes darted from the walls--pale yellow--to the floor--a deep, dark mahogany--back to Andrew, he guessed maybe he’d been proven wrong. Again.

Andrew was five feet tall with golden blonde hair and hazel eyes that seemed to sparkle in the low light of the locker room, but maybe that was just because Neil had never seen the world in color before. He never realized how beautiful it could look.

Wymack was saying something to Coach Hernandez, who’d caught up to them as well, but Neil didn’t hear a word or his coach leaving. He blinked again, expecting the colors to fade back to gray when he opened his eyes again, but they didn’t. Andrew’s hair was still blonde, a soft shade that made Neil think of the pale gray fields of straw in Indiana when he’d traveled past with his mother. 

He wondered, for a horrible moment, what color his mother’s eyes had been. She didn’t know; she’d never met her soulmate.

Neil pressed a cautious hand to his stomach and grunted, his abdomen still aching from the racquet. The racquet was yellow, Neil noticed. Funny how he’d listened to his mother describe colors to him as they’d moved from place to place, even though she’d never seen them herself. A pang of guilt mingled with the raw pain in his gut. 

“You might need to give him a minute,” Andrew suggested to Wymack in an off-hand tone, a detached comment that had Neil wondering if, somehow, Andrew  _ wasn’t _ his soulmate. Surely, even a noted psychopath like Andrew Minyard would take a moment to marvel at seeing color.

Wymack looked from Andrew’s unimpressed face to Neil, who couldn’t stop studying everything as fast as his nausea would allow. The tattoo on Wymack’s arm was still a deep, dark black, but now it played against the brown of his skin. 

He raised a hand, shooing Andrew out of the room. “I think he needs a moment from you. Go on, get out of here.” After Andrew had left without a second glance at Neil, Wymack added, “You ok?”

“I’m fine.” Neil nodded his head. The sudden movement invited a small wave of nausea, but that one was easy to push past. It didn’t matter who Andrew Minyard was; Neil Josten didn’t really exist, he couldn’t continue to exist, and he needed to get out of here.

And on the plus side, maybe seeing everything in color would help him hide better, live life on the run easier. Maybe he could at least thank Andrew for that before he left.

Even if he did wallop Neil in the stomach so hard that he still wasn’t sure he could stand. But Wymack was staring, and pride pushed Neil to rise to his feet. Behind Wymack, Neil saw a bit of blonde and realized Andrew had not gone far; he shifted until he was covering the door like it was his goal. Neil had no escape.

And then Kevin Day showed up.

The last time Neil had seen Kevin, his hair had been a dark shade of gray, almost black. His eyes had been an indeterminate medium gray. Now Neil saw that they were green, not like an emerald, but like a tree’s leaves after the rain. His hair was a deep, rich brown. The number two tattooed onto his left cheekbone was just as black and unfaded as ever.

Neil took a breath and sent up a silent prayer to a god he didn’t believe in that Kevin didn’t recognize him. The last time that Neil had seen Kevin, they’d watched his father kill a man. The dark gray blood had seeped from the man’s rapidly paling skin onto a gray tarp in a room with black walls and no indication that even soulmates would find a hint of color on them.

“What’s taking you guys so long?” Kevin asked, looking past Neil to Wymack. His gaze settled back on Neil, but there was no flicker of recognition, and Neil hissed out a sigh of relief that was easily covered with a cough and a groan. His stomach still hurt enough. “I assume despite the backwoods nature of this school that you know how to sign your name. It goes on the dotted line. And then we can all go home.”

Neil kept himself from rolling his eyes, but only just. “I’m not signing with you.” Even as his body buzzed faintly with nervous energy and fear, he managed to keep his voice even. “There are thousands of strikers who’d jump at the chance to play with you. Bother them, not me.”

“We saw their files,” Wymack said. “We chose you.”

Neil didn’t have a response ready for that. If he looked into his heart, pushed past the barriers set up to protect him, the answer was easy: YES, yes, one hundred times, he wanted to be part of a team, he wanted to belong, he wanted to play Exy.

He wanted to play Exy so much his stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with Andrew’s hit. Neil shook his head, afraid to open his mouth. He managed a, “I have to ask my mother,” that didn’t sound completely like he was going to pass out.

Wymack paused, then waved off Kevin. “You guys go wait in the car. Give me a minute.” When they’d gone, he turned back to Neil and blew apart his world in a single question: “Are they the ones who hurt you?”

Neil didn’t reply to that either. Everything he had tried to keep together in the year that his mother had died was unraveling. He knew he needed to say no, to leave. To start over again. A new city. A new name.

He’d still see everything in color, though.    
  
He’d blow his chance to play Exy, even if it would be only for a few more years.

Millport’s colors were green and brown, the colors muddy and, though new to him, kind of boring. At the back of his panic, Neil wondered if high schools had shit color schemes because most of the kids hadn’t met their soulmates and just saw everything as shades of gray anyhow.

“Neil?”

With a substantial effort, Neil dragged himself out of his thoughts and met Wymack’s eyes. He couldn’t manage to keep that eye contact for more than a second, and dropped his gaze. 

“He’s not going to be able to answer that coach,” came a voice behind him. Andrew’s.

Neil had heard he didn’t ever listen to what others told him to do. But before he could decide how he felt about Andrew coming back to see him frozen in panic, Wymack dropped that line of conversation. 

“We’ll bring you out to South Carolina the day after graduation,” he declared. “Early conditional practice.”

Neil squashed down his mother’s voice, so firm, so insistent, telling him to never pick up a racquet again. He nodded. It seemed so final, like the final nail in a coffin he hadn’t even realized he’d been in.

Wymack said something about finding Hernandez and left. Only then did Andrew spare a glance at Neil. “You really think you’re going to get a better offer than the Foxes? You and I both know this is as good as it gets.”

If Neil had been in any other state of mind, he might have heard the barest hint of camaraderie, the unspoken “for people like us, people with fucked up pasts” but all he could focus on was the sick reality that he was betraying his mother to play Exy with a soulmate who clearly couldn’t stand to be in the same space as him. 

“Fuck you,” Neil said. His voice came out a lot stronger than he felt. The little victories.

Andrew smiled, or at least, the corner of his mouth quirked up just enough to convey mirth. “No, thanks,” he replied, and breezed out of the room.

Neil counted to ten before he left after Andrew, intent on heading “home” for the evening to the little house he was squatting in. He passed the bathroom and, on instinct, ducked inside. It took him a moment to raise his eyes to meet his reflection in the mirror, but Neil was still surprised by his face.

He had taken to dying it brown, so it wasn’t the true color of his hair, but even still, it was nice to look at. His contacts were brown, too. If he wasn’t worried about Andrew and Kevin suddenly popping in, given his luck today, he would have slipped off a contact to see his true eye color. He remembered his mother telling him that they said he had blue eyes. 

By the time he got to the house, the excitement of the evening, the intensity of the signed contract in his bag had rolled together to leave him completely wiped out. He didn’t use the mirror to take out his contacts every night anyhow; he kept them by his pillow in case he ever needed to get up and go. But when he slept, that night, his dreams were in color, and his mother had blue eyes, the same color as the ocean.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil meets the rest of the Foxes and Andrew takes him to Colombia for the first time

#  2

Everything after that seemed to happen in a whirlwind of activity, days blurring together until the end of the year and graduation. Keeping the secret of his signing was easy; Neil didn’t have any friends. Everyone in Millport had already spent the last 18 years being friends with each other; the cliques were amicable enough to his face, but no one was going to miss him when he was gone. Neil wondered, briefly, if anyone would even be surprised to see him playing for the Foxes in the fall. 

Packing for his flight to South Carolina was easy; everything he owned fit in a single duffle bag. He was amused to see that one of his light gray t-shirts was actually a soft, mossy green. The green had faded so much over the years that soon enough it would be gray again, soulmate or not.

In the airport, Neil avoided looking too closely at any of the glossy surfaces that covered every wall; he hadn’t looked at himself in the mirror again since the night he’d met Andrew. Everyone had always told him he had his father’s eyes.

Meeting the rest of Andrew’s group over the summer was about as easy as Neil expected it to be; which is to say, he’d rather have Kevin insulting his Exy skills any day of the week.

The one thing he didn’t expect--or maybe he did, and was pissed at himself for thinking it would be different because why would it be--was the way Andrew didn’t seem to care  _ at all _ that they were soulmates. It’s not like he expected  _ I love yous _ and breathless kisses; he would have been content for a basic acknowledgement of reality.

Somehow, a few weeks into the summer after the whole squad had arrived for the end of the summer, Neil ended up in Andrew’s car on the way to practice. The others had gone ahead earlier to get paperwork out of the way. At first Neil thought it was going to be another bout of silence, but after a long minute, Andrew spoke without ever turning towards Neil.

“So, you believe in fate.”

Neil scoffed. “Not really.” It was hardly fate that had put him in this precarious position of juggling several lies and learning how to master college level Exy all at once. 

“Luck, then.” Andrew’s tone was so bored, Neil was surprised he wasn’t sleep walking. Sleep driving. 

Neil shrugged. The nonchalance he replied with was easy because he believed it. “Only the bad sort.”

And that was the truth, wasn’t it? Even finding his soulmate was turning into another bout of bad luck. 

“I’m impressed. You can tell the truth on occasion.” Andrew’s smile was disconcerting. “So, oh truthful one, tell me: why do you keep fighting me?”

Neil couldn’t help but glower as he ticked off the reasons on his fingers. “You went through my things. You won’t leave me alone. I’m not going to roll over and show you my tail just because everyone seems to think you’re incapable of emotions besides your drug-induced mania.”

Andrew tapped a finger against the steering wheel as he glided into a parking spot in front of the stadium. “Oh Neil. Don’t for a moment think that you have me figured out.” He shifted the car into park, and fixed Neil with an unwavering stare. “If you think that being ‘soulmates’ is enough to protect you, you might as well hear it from your one true love’s lips: do not try to put me on a leash. I will break you before you fix the first loop of the collar around my neck.”

The acrid way that Andrew spit out the words ‘one true love’ was honestly impressive. But Neil scowled, heat rising at the back of his neck. “You act like you have any clue what it would take to break me. You have no idea.” Even as he spoke, Neil wished he could take back his words. Neil Josten wasn’t supposed to be confrontational; somehow Andrew had gotten past that barrier already. Neil needed to bring it back in, to focus on the goal in front of him: the Foxhole Court. Exy. Staying alive. 

The smile Andrew gave him showed all of his teeth. “That sounds like a challenge. I’ll tell you what: you’re coming with us to Colombia on Friday.”

As if on cue, the other Foxes came around the corner for their practice. 

“Oh, wonderful!” Nicky exclaimed as he heard Andrew’s last statement. His smile was genuine. “We’ll take you to dinner, show you the best spots in town. You’ll get to see our house. It’s not much, but it is a great place to crash when you’re drunk.”

Aaron said nothing, and Kevin rolled his eyes before heading towards the court with a pointed look at everyone to hurry up with their pointless conversations that had nothing to do with Exy. 

Neil shook his head. “I don’t drink.”

“So stand around and look stupid at the bar instead of outside the court.” Andrew’s suggestion was less of a suggestion and more of an order. Neil bristled, but with the other Foxes around, it was high time for him to stop pushing back and to start acting like Neil would, which meant giving in.

“Fine,” he conceded. His sigh was more frustration than defeat, but Andrew would interpret it however he pleased. “I go with you, and after that, you leave my things alone.”

Andrew’s smile stretched his cheeks, went just a smidge past too big to be genuine. “Yes. You come with us, and we’ll see how you feel in the morning about everything.” He waited until the others had started towards the stadium at Kevin’s impatient callout. “Best leave the leash in your dorm room.”

Neil sucked in a breath through his nose and counted to three before turning towards the court on one heel. 

The orange and white of the Foxhole Court was blindingly bright in the sunlight. Still fuming about the conversation with Andrew, Neil forced himself to wonder, yet again, who might see the colors in all their pigmented glory and who hadn’t yet met their soulmates.

Nicky had gone on about the bright orange the first time Neil had seen the court; his soulmate, Erik, lived in Germany. Matt and Dan had admitted, to no one’s surprise, that they were soulmates. Allison and Seth didn’t say a word on their status; neither did Kevin or Aaron. Neil suspected Renee would tell him if he asked, so he didn’t.

And of course, as far as Neil knew, Andrew hadn’t admitted their situation to anyone.

Neil threw himself into practice, trying to focus on trying harder, doing better, but between Kevin’s neverending disapproval, Seth’s constant discontent, and Andrew aiming every returned ball at his head, he didn’t find himself at the end of any great leaps in skill by the end of the week.

Friday practice came and went, just the same as the rest. Kevin ground out a warning to Andrew to stop aiming for Neil’s head, and Andrew acquiesced by sending half the balls at Kevin’s feet.

Sore, tired, and in a foul mood, Neil took his time in the showers. One by one, the other showers turned off and his teammates left as they got dressed and headed back to the dorm. But when Neil came out of his shower, he was surprised to see Andrew sitting on the end of the bench, a large, black gift bag nearby.

“Ah, Neil. Tonight’s the night.”

Colombia. Neil had almost managed to forget about it thanks to the stress of practice. It all came rushing back as he recalled the conversation he’d had with Andrew earlier in the week.

“Right.” He wasn’t looking forward to it, so he didn’t say anything else.

Andrew wasn’t in a rush to say anything either. After a little while, he pushed the bag towards Neil.

“What’s that?” Neil asked. He didn’t take it.

Andrew gestured to Neil as if that explained everything. Neil blinked down at himself; his clothes weren’t on backwards. There were no offensive stains. 

“You can’t go dressed like that. I got you something more appropriate for the evening.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have.” Neil rolled his eyes before he cut a glare at Andrew. “No, you really shouldn’t have. Why do I have to pass your tests and jump through your hoops just to play Exy? Wymack recruited me just the same as you.” 

Andrew seemed unaffected. “Do you have no sense of self-preservation?” he wondered aloud, not looking at Neil, “Or are you really just dumber than I thought?” He pushed the bag closer to Neil. “Wear the clothes or the night is over before it begins, and trust me, you won’t be playing your precious stickball then.”

Neil glared, but it had no effect on Andrew’s smiling facade. He reached over, looked into the top of the bag, and raised an eyebrow. 

“Take it. Get some rest if trying to score on my goal wore you out.” The corner of Andrew’s lips quirked up in a smirk. “Be at our room at 9.” He got up and headed towards the door. He paused before he left, and, without turning around to face Neil, added, “And take out your contacts.”

The door swung closed behind Andrew before Neil could get a single word out in protest. He pushed aside the anger and annoyance, and the fear that rose at the thought of facing the world with eyes that others might be able to see. He dumped the bag out on the bench to inspect the clothing Andrew had deemed worthy of their night out.

Some very distant part of him had to acknowledge the fact that Andrew brought him a gift. That wasn’t something Neil was used to; then again, Andrew was only using him for reasons unknown, but Neil was familiar with being used.

The boots that hit the floor were black, with straps going up the sides halfway up Neil’s legs. The pants, also a deep black, were tighter than anything Neil had ever owned, and the shirt--long sleeved--was the darkest charcoal color. Bits of the fabric were slashed away, in an attempt at fashion, to reveal a cobalt blue under layer. 

Without his contacts, Neil’s blue eyes would be a striking contrast to the dark gray. The last thing he wanted. He took a deep breath, blew it out, and shoved everything back into the bag. 

Back at the dorm, Neil was thankful for the rough, nearly frantically paced practices this week, if only because he was exhausted enough to close his eyes and rest for an hour or two. After that, his nerves started to fray on “what ifs” and he would have taken to pacing the room if Dan hadn’t come over to get Matt for dinner. The three of them chatted for a while about practice and avoided the big topics in favor of little things like the few things Neil had managed to do well during practice.

“You should come to dinner with us,” Dan suggested.

“I don’t want to intrude,” Neil replied. He thought of the bag of clothes in his room and looked at the time. Still another hour to kill, but getting into those pants would probably take a good fifteen minutes alone.

“Hardly,” Matt said. “Listen, I don’t know what Andrew and his group are up to, but take it from me. They’re going to try to pull you in, and pull you down. Just know that we’re all here for you, ok? If you need anything.”

Neil nodded, trying to project a comforting smile. Based on the way his cheeks hurt, he suspected it wasn’t his best attempt. “I know.”

It seemed to be good enough; after another wary glance Neil’s way, Matt and Dan headed out for dinner without any more lectures, and Neil headed back to his room to get ready.

Shedding his oversized t-shirt and jeans for clothes that fit every curve of his body and outlined every muscle left Neil feeling nearly naked. He liked the boots though; he could imagine the damage they’d do if he needed to kick Andrew at any point during the night.

He knocked on the door to the twin’s room at 8:59.

Nicky opened the door with a smile and a wave. “Whoa. Nice eyes, Neil.” He paused, tearing his eyes from Neil’s to look him over with a slow and appreciative gaze. “Nice, uh, everything, wow, ok,” he muttered, turning away and adding in German, “Don’t kill me, Andrew, I turned away.” A beat later, he added, also in German, “Did you know his eyes were blue?”

Andrew had paused whatever video game they were playing to turn his judgemental stare on Neil as he ignored Nicky’s question. “Look at this, Neil. You made the right decision.”

Neil decided it was best to keep his mouth shut, though he wanted to remind Andrew that he didn’t really have a choice.

“Let’s not waste time,” Andrew announced, motioning for everyone else to get moving. He waited until Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin had left the room before grabbing Neil by the arm.

Neil tensed, ready to fight back, but all Andrew did was run his hand along Neil’s back to the base of his neck. He tapped Neil’s neck, an unspoken signal for Neil to tilt his head down for Andrew’s inspection.

“Blue eyes, hmm,” Andrew said after a moment. “I wonder, have you seen them in the mirror yet?”

Neil shook his head. If he could avoid ever placing a true color to his eyes, he’d do it. It was bad enough that he knew they were blue.

“Interesting, as always. For now, though...” Andrew slid his hand from Neil’s neck to his chest, and pushed him back with enough force to make Neil stumble. “Let’s go.”

The drive out to Colombia was nerve wracking in the same way as when Neil and his mother had approached new cities. Neil didn’t know who he could trust, the best ways to the interstate, the closest pay phone. He pursed his lips and watched the road when they took an exit after much debate between the twins whether it was the right Waffle House exit or not.

The ice cream at their first stop was probably good, but Neil was more focused on what was happening next. Somehow, Andrew had the waitress bring them a huge stack of napkins with small packets of drugs between them. He pocketed the vast majority of them, but took two with his ice cream.

“One of these has your name on it,” Andrew said, meeting Neil’s gaze.

“I told you I don’t drink. I don’t do drugs, either.” Neil was trying to reconcile the fact that even Kevin looked like he was going to take a packet when they got to the club, which left his tone worn.

Andrew shrugged and fingered the top of the bag before tucking it back in his pocket. “Must be nice to be so righteous.”

At Eden’s Twilight, Neil watched Aaron and Kevin chat with the bouncer. Somehow, their three minute conversation was good enough for them to cut the formidable line of people waiting to get in, people dressed in far more leather, corsets, chains, and  _ color _ than Neil had ever seen in his life.

Aaron pushed open the heavy, dark doors. If the line outside had been colorful, Neil wasn’t prepared for inside. Swarms of bodies pressed together, lights in blue, green, yellow, and red shone down on everything, and the music pounded in his chest, the deep bass thudding in time to his heartbeat.

Neil glanced up to see a balcony surrounding the perimeter of the space, and looked down to see an even more crowded dance floor. There were entirely too many people in the space space, but it didn’t matter because Andrew was leading the group; despite being one of the shortest people in the club, everyone else noticed him and moved out of the way. One drunk patron dove for the ground when Andrew glared his way. 

Kevin spotted a table and headed to claim it with Nicky and Aaron. Andrew pulled Neil deeper and deeper into the center of the room until they made it to the bar. People crowded around, and ice clinked into glasses as drink after drink was procured. Andrew sat on the single open stool and waited. Neil slotted in the space behind him, keeping his eyes on the bar.

For better or worse, the loud music made conversation an afterthought. Each song seemed to blend into the next, and Neil couldn’t quite tell how much time had passed by the time a particular bartender had made its way down towards them. 

“Andrew! Good to see you back,” the bartender said, before noticing Neil behind him. “Who’s the new guy?”

“No one important,” Andrew said. 

If Andrew had meant it as a warning, the bartender didn’t seem to care. Perhaps he knew Andrew enough to know the underlying meaning of his words that Neil didn’t. 

“What are you drinking?” he asked Neil.

Neil shook his head “I’m not.”

“Soda,” Andrew said, and the bartender nodded. 

Though he had no right to be so intrigued, Neil couldn’t help but watch the activity at the bar; the colorful shots of liquor, the bright red cherries dropped into glasses of soda, the pastel paper umbrellas on top of aqua green drinks. If nothing else, Neil appreciated the richness of the experience.

He should have known he’d regret finding a positive in the evening too soon.

Andrew brought the first round of drinks back to the table Kevin had staked out, and Nicky raised his glass in a toast. The cousins knocked back their first drinks in no time flat and Kevin wasn’t far behind. Neil sipped at his soda, made a face at the sweetness, and wondered if the bartender had added extra syrup. Was that a thing that they did at bars? He was parched from the drive and drank it anyway.

He pretended like he was ignoring Andrew’s piercing hazel eyes on him and tipped the glass up. The last sip was so thick, so dangerously sweet that it almost hid the acid aftertaste, and Neil sputtered.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he started to say, but Andrew was already on his feet, grabbing Neil by the arm and forcing him up from the table.

“What the FUCK,” Neil protested, watching Nicky, Aaron, and Kevin completely ignore Andrew’s behavior. Neil’s feet went like stones beneath him, and he stumbled to keep up with Andrew’s steady pace through the throng of bodies. A moment later, his vision started to blur at the corners. If he thought people jumped out of Andrew’s way before, now they practically spun into each other to avoid his dangerous intent. Neil marveled at it for a moment before Andrew dragged him to the darkest corner of the club and fixed him with a glare.

Fuck if Andrew’s face wasn’t some sort of dark storm, something warring behind the golden flecks of his eyes, emotions Neil couldn’t place, not to begin with and not with whatever drugs they’d put in his drink rushing through his system.

“Look, Neil,” Andrew said, his voice clear and calm. “I don’t think you belong here.”

Neil frowned. “Don’t know why you brought me here to fuck with my head.” His words were only slightly slurred. The colors and sounds around them blurred a bit at the edges, but if he just focused on Andrew, he wasn’t too wobbly. “Just to tell me I don’t belong here,” he repeated, as if trying to figure out the puzzle behind Andrew’s words. “Fuck you.”

The storm on Andrew’s face grew dangerous, a full on hurricane, and Neil was an unprotected waterfront. Neil swallowed, suddenly aware how very dry his throat was. He sucked in a bit of a breath and refocused on Andrew. The whole club started to spin around him. 

“I see you putting stock into this soulmate thing,” Andrew continued, his eyes burning new scars on Neil’s skin. “Like you expect me to turn around and propose to you, like I don’t know there’s too many things that don’t add up in your story to let you out of my sight.”

Neil wanted another layer of clothing to put over his shirt; somehow, Andrew seemed to be laying him naked in ways he didn’t expect. His head buzzed out of time to the pulse of the music around them. Anger welled up in his stomach and burned in his throat until he was lurching forward, trying to slam into Andrew.

Andrew brushed aside his uncoordinated attempt, grabbing Neil by the wrists. He spun them, slamming Neil into the wall, crushing the air out of Neil’s lungs.

“You think you can waltz in and lie your way through life. You, a nobody,” Andrew hissed. “It must have killed you to look up and watch color explode in your world when you saw me. Bet you had held out hope that the great Kevin Day would be your soulmate; why else would you carry a goddamned shrine to him in your bag of extremely important things?” 

Neil blinked, trying to follow Andrew’s points. His brain fuzzed on the connections, but the only words that came out were, “I could have told you Kevin wasn’t my soulmate.”

“Interesting.” Andrew didn’t relax his grip on Neil’s wrists. He had to stare up at Neil, but somehow Neil still felt shorter under Andrew’s gaze. “Another piece that doesn’t add up. Listen, Neil. I’m not going to put up with your bullshit like Wymack is. Like Kevin is. You need to come clean on why you’re here or I’m going to make your life hell.” He slammed against Neil for emphasis. 

Neil choked and swallowed back bile and vomit that threatened to wretch its way free. “What am I supposed to tell you?”

Andrew slammed Neil’s arms back one last time. “The truth.”

Neil shook his head, an instant reaction that he regretted; his world spun faster, and the last thing he remembered seeing for the night was the storm in Andrew’s hazel eyes smoothing into a mask of perfect calm in a sea of spinning lights.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after Eden's Twilight, Andrew asks Neil a question...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm starting to think this is going to end up being like a 6 + 1, because I'm having a hard time capturing all the moments I want in just five. I've already got Andrew's POV written for the plus one, so I know where we're ending. I just can't get there in five because Neil is giving me a heck of a time! ;p
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

#  3

When Neil opened his eyes the next morning, light assaulted him. The bright, clear sunlight streamed in through the windows of an unfamiliar room. He grunted and a new layer of pain bloomed behind his eyes. His mouth was dry, like it had been packed with cotton gauze all night.

He put a hand up to his eyes to protect them from the unyielding sunlight, memories of last night flashing by; Andrew too close to his face, Nicky dragging him to the dance floor, Aaron’s detached stare, Kevin knocking back twice as many drinks as the twins. Neil scrunched up his eyes, trying to will the headache away. 

That’s when he realized someone else was in the bed. He twisted, trying to lash out, but the overwhelming bits of too-colorful memories and sharp sunlight was too much. He gagged. The solid presence in the bed moved, and a trashcan appeared in Neil’s line of sight.

After he was done heaving up the scant nothingness left in his system, Neil wiped the back of his mouth with his hand. His mouth was still dry as hell, but his stomach was much more settled. He focused on that one piece of good information and laid into the person next to him.

Keeping his eyes open was a losing battle. The curtains were open, he noted. Neil had to close them against the brightness of the sun. “What the fuck am I doing here, and where the fuck am I?” 

“Still Colombia, and you could try, ‘thank you for the drinks,’ instead of being an ungrateful prick,” suggested Andrew Minyard, who pushed off from the bed. His feet hit the floor without a sound. 

It was hard to keep the venom in his voice while the whole world was lurching, but Neil did his best. “What is  _ wrong  _ with you?”

“None of your business,” Andrew said. “But you. Whatever you’re hiding is going to rip this team apart.”

Neil wiped his mouth on the back of his hand again, trying to maintain some semblance of moisture and failing. The awful, sour tang of vomit wouldn’t leave the back of his throat. “You don’t give a shit about Exy, so why start now?”

There was a sound as Andrew moved around the room, followed by the slight crunch of plastic. Something landed with a thud on the bed next to Neil, and he put out a hand, grabbing for the water bottle. He opened his eyes just long enough to note that the seal hadn’t been broken, cracked it open, and drank the whole thing in a long series of gulps, too parched to care if it came back up again.

The water settled in his stomach, and the room stopped spinning quite as fast. Neil eased himself up on his elbows and tried opening his eyes again. “Could you close the fucking curtains, jackass?” 

A long silence followed, and then Andrew dragged the fabric over the window. The room darkened just enough for Neil to tolerate opening his eyes. Andrew sat in a chair by the door. He’d apparently been sleeping next to Neil in his club clothes, the dark shirt and pants rumpled. His posture was a warning; Neil wasn’t leaving the room until Andrew deemed him “safe.”

Neil contemplated jumping out of the window. By his estimate of a shadow of a tree outside, they were most likely on the second story of a house. He could probably hit the ground running and get out of line of sight before Andrew got downstairs and through the front door.

The odds that Andrew would just follow him out the window were too high, though, so he decided to keep that option in his back pocket.

Andrew’s eyes didn’t leave Neil. They sat there, staring at each other. Neil would have been content to wait Andrew out; sitting silent in misery was second nature, but Andrew was a different sort of unmoveable. He wasn’t going to give Neil an inch until they talked.

So much for soulmates, Neil thought, his face flickering in a frustrated half-smile.

Andrew raised an eyebrow about two millimeters, and inclined his head roughly the same amount. “Anytime you want to share what’s so funny, I’m all ears.”

“Bullshit,” Neil spat back. “I’m clearly just here for your entertainment, and I’m not about to squawk out a song and dance just to make you happy. Tell me what you need me to say so I can say it and we can go on with our lives.”

“Tell me the truth. Why are you here?” Andrew paused. “If you even think of answering ‘Exy,’ I’ll lock you in this room and swallow the key. Just ask Aaron.” Andrew glanced at the door, as if weighing his options. His eyes settled on Neil's shirt. “Actually, let’s do this. You won’t undress in front of everyone. You won’t tell me why without five thousand different lies. So show me.”

The world spun into a crashing halt, like screeching wheels on the pavement. The ‘jump out the window’ plan rose in attractiveness. He bit his lip so hard it bled, his heart jumping from his chest into his throat.

“I--can’t,” he choked out, the dryness in his throat only half from dehydration now.

Andrew’s expression didn’t change. “Everything I know about you is a lie. If I asked you to explain, you’ll lie. Show me something that you can’t lie about.”

Neil drew in a deep breath. There was no way he could take off his shirt in front of Andrew, not here. Not now. His blood roared in his ears, his vision started to fade from the corners of the room, narrowing down into whiteness. He wasn’t sure if he was breathing or not.

Two rough, warm hands grabbed him. Neil’s instinct was to hit back, but Andrew was faster and stronger. He held onto Neil’s arms, forcing them to Neil’s sides. He got up in Neil’s face, crowding out fear and doubt and anger and staring into Neil’s eyes.

The golden tint in Andrew’s hazel eyes was intense, even as his glare was all storms and electricity. Neil bit his lip again, taken aback. He focused on Andrew’s eyes as if they were the only thing that mattered in the world, not sure whether to laugh or cry or both.

“Look,” Andrew said after a moment. “I don’t give a shit what has happened to you. If you’re afraid I’m going to cry because I can’t handle ‘the truth’, then you are not only nobody, but you also know nothing. I’m not asking you to give me your virginity. I’m asking you to give me a truth.”

Neil’s blood ran hot. He hated that he was trembling in Andrew’s arms. He didn’t need to tell Andrew that it would have been easier to give up his virginity than to take off his shirt. He swallowed thickly on rising bile that had no right to be there. If he wasn’t so dehydrated, he’d be sweating. 

“I am going to let go of you,” Andrew warned, his voice low. “Try not to make the wrong decision.”

There was no way Neil could put into words the way he desperately wanted Andrew to leave him the fuck alone and the way he needed Andrew to never let him go. It didn’t matter that Andrew hated him; he was a solid presence keeping Neil grounded. If Andrew was holding him, he wasn’t looking at his body.

But Andrew let go.

Neil swallowed again. “Do you have any more water?” he asked. 

He was buying time, and they both knew it, but maybe Andrew took pity on him long enough to get up, wrestle another water bottle out of a package on the dresser, and toss it Neil’s way. Neil drank it just as fast as he had the other, unable to slow down when his body was screaming for hydration.

If Andrew had taken pity, it didn’t reach his eyes. He didn’t drop his placid gaze from Neil’s face. He waited, and the set of his shoulders let Neil know he’d wait until the end of time if he had to.

Shaking the cold chill that had settled on Neil’s spine, he grabbed the edge of the hem of the shirt. He managed the first inch of skin before freezing, his nerves like pinpoints of fire. Squeezing his eyes shut, Neil tore the shirt straight up over his head and only just managed not to grab the blanket to cover himself up.

If he had expected a sound, a gasp, anything from Andrew, he was surprised to not hear even the slightest intake of air.

“Stand up,” Andrew said after a minute that felt like hours, days, eternity.

Neil complied, his legs numb as he got out of the bed. His feet didn’t quite feel attached to his body, but he managed to stand up without falling over.

Andrew took a few steps closer to Neil, inspecting his skin with a detached look on his face.

Neil was afraid to study Andrew’s gaze closer, but he couldn’t not look. Was Andrew seriously not phased by any of the scars that covered his back and body? Did the clearly marked bullet hole near his chest not invite questions? The iron mark on his shoulder? The precise lines of knife cuts won in fights he didn’t want? The marks on his skin told his story in more words than he’d ever manage on his own.

What had Andrew seen in his lifetime to make these scars unworthy of comment?

Andrew reached out, tracing a particularly nasty gash that ran down Neil’s chest to his stomach, angling away from his internal organs at the very last moment and flaring out to his hip bone. His finger was warm, and the scar tingled long after Andrew broke contact with Neil. Neil thought for a moment that he had seen a sudden darkness in Andrew’s eyes, but when he blinked, it was gone. He must have imagined it.

The seconds, ticking out by the clock on the wall, dragged out into meaningless minutes. Finally, Andrew reached beside Neil and wordlessly handed him his shirt. Neil wasted no time in pulling the shirt back on. Only part of the tension lifted from his shoulders when he was covered again; he’d been too exposed to ever go back to how things had been between them.

“Your lips told Coach one story, but your body tells another.” Andrew tapped his chin. “You appear to attract danger.”

It wasn’t a question, and Neil didn’t have anything to add to Andrew’s succinct observation. 

“Why stop? What does Palmetto State University offer you? Because it’s not protection. In fact, you’re putting yourself in the spotlight the moment you step onto our court and they broadcast your name.” 

And that was a question Neil didn’t want to answer. Andrew might not have flinched at the scars that covered every part of his body, but there was no way to explain Neil’s father without brushing up too close to his real identity. 

“I’m tired of running,” Neil said. “At least here, I have Exy.”

“Exy does not give two fucks about you risking your life to play.”

“Exy gives me something in my life I can control.” Neil shrugged, meeting Andrew’s eyes. “And you already said it: I’m nobody. Maybe the people I’m running from have gotten bored of chasing me. So just let me play. I won’t stay here forever, I promise.”

Andrew’s gaze was even, but for a moment, that sudden darkness resurfaced, like a shark waiting below the calm surface that was Andrew’s face.

“No, you won’t stay forever,” he agreed, but it didn’t come out like a threat, more of an acknowledgement of something that was already written in stone. Like he knew Neil was heading for an early grave.

Neil didn’t know what to make of it, but then the darkness was gone. There was something calming about the hazel of Andrew’s eyes, but he couldn’t keep looking without having to fight an odd urge to keep talking, to tell Andrew everything and put his whole life on display. He looked away just in time.

Andrew didn’t say anything else, just went to the dresser, pulled out another water bottle and a bag that turned out to be full of clothes and handed them both to Neil. He opened the door to the room, paused in the door frame, and nodded to the left. 

“The others are downstairs. Get dressed and come have some breakfast.”

The door closed behind him, and Neil all but sank to the floor in relief. He didn’t know what to think, and he didn’t want to see any of the others, but whatever Andrew had read into his scars was apparently enough to absolve him of suspicion. For now. Neil reached up behind him on the bed, grabbed the water bottle, and drank that one down too. 

He needed to figure out where the bathroom was. The bag of clothes shifted and fell on the floor, an oversized t-shirt and shorts and comfortable tennis shoes. Everything was a loud shade of orange and white. Neil shedded the outfit from last night like a snake shed its skin; he had never been more thankful to leave an outfit behind than the one he’d worn to Eden’s Twilight.

When he put on the new outfit, he was surprised by the small whisper in the back of his mind that suggested maybe he was finding a home. His mother’s warnings shouted over that voice. His contacts were still out from the previous night and he avoided looking into the mirror. He still wasn’t ready to see his father’s eyes staring back at him, sealing the fact that he was as far from a home as he’d ever be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The draft for this chapter had a note at the point where Neil drinks down the water bottle in like three gulps and it was all "(Neil doesn't notice Andrew's moment of weakness when he sucks down the whole bottle and Andrew's steel facade breaks for a moment)" but alas Neil doesn't notice and we're in his POV, so.... to the end notes it goes ;)
> 
> Also, when I was done editing this section, I realized that it can be boiled down to "2000 words where Andrew looks at Neil shirtless." I make no apologies. ^_~


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exy practice and another trip to Colombia...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strap in, my friends. I'm officially changing this to an 8 part fic that'll be around 30k when finished. 6, 7, and 8 are all written and just need to be edited. Chapter five is wrestling with me so hopefully I'll get it to submit to my will by next week so that we can move forward! 
> 
> This chapter covers up to the events of the end of the first book, meaning Seth's death is mentioned, there's some blood from when Andrew punches the window and of course late night Exy practice! ^_~
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I've really appreciated the kudos and comments, they mean so much to me, you guys are AMAZING.

#  4

Neil walked onto the court next Monday in full Exy gear, convinced Andrew could see through it all. Neil knew it was his own insecurity bleeding through, more cuts on top of the ghosts of long healed wounds. Andrew’s expression didn’t change when he saw Neil, which helped settle Neil’s raw nerves but did nothing for the thoughts running through his mind. Just like finding out that Andrew was his soulmate, the weekend in Colombia had changed everything and nothing all at once.

An Exy ball came within inches of Neil’s head. He flinched away, and Kevin tore into him for being distracted. His words swirled around Neil’s head without quite sticking. In the goal, Andrew twirled his racquet without a single care in the world. He certainly wasn’t looking at Neil. His world hadn't been turned upside down and shaken until he was ready to explode.

Neil thought back to Andrew's reaction to his scars, and amended to himself that perhaps Andrew might have something going on beyond what he could see.

“Do you understand?” Kevin snarled, inches away from Neil’s face. 

Neil blinked. When had Kevin gotten that close? “I do.” 

Worrying about Andrew wasn’t going to get Neil up to par for their first game. He shook out his arms, and shifted into a ready position. It was time to practice. 

Neil focused, reacting as fast as he could while Dan called the drills. He spent the next hour going as hard as he could, his legs burning and his arms numb from effort by the end. While Kevin didn’t seem pleased with the outcome of the practice, he was less annoyed than usual at their wrap-up huddle, so Neil took it as a win.

Andrew drove them back to the dorm, Neil sandwiched between Nicky and Aaron in the back seat, and Kevin up front. Nicky was talking his ear off about something that had happened in his over the weekend when suddenly Kevin glanced at Neil’s reflection in the rearview mirror before saying something to Andrew.

“So then Aaron grabs this cup and--” Nicky said in Neil’s left ear.

“...starting tonight.” Neil caught Kevin’s last words in his right ear.

Andrew either didn’t care what Kevin was starting tonight or knew Kevin didn’t need an acknowledgement. He parked the car and everyone got out, heading back to their rooms. Andrew didn’t so much as turn back towards Neil as he closed the door behind him. 

Neil tried to occupy his time reading that evening and failed. He wandered out to the living room to have dinner with Matt and Seth, who offered him the supposedly great prize of getting to pick the movie they watched. Neil looked at the covers of several DVDs, picked one based on the explosion on the cover, and handed it over. 

“Nice choice,” Matt said, popping it into the player. 

“Seen it already,” Seth muttered under his breath, but he settled back on the couch anyhow.

They were halfway through the movie, which had a lot fewer explosions than Neil had anticipated, when there was a loud knock on the door. Neil was already halfway up and across the room before the others reacted, his heart pounding.

How did he explain to his roommate’s that his father’s acquaintances used to knock with the same heavy finality? He tried on a grin at Matt’s questioning look.

“I hate not knowing who’s there?” he offered. At least he’d gotten up to answer the door and not tried to jump out the window.

Kevin was at the door, Exy ball in hand. “Let’s go. It’s time.”

“Uh.” Neil looked at Kevin, at the ball, and then back to Matt and Seth, who watched the scene with interest. Matt was frowning. “Time for what?”

Kevin was already three steps down the hallway. “Remember when you said you’d give me your game? It’s time. Now let’s  _ go _ ,” he snapped, like it would make Neil move faster, and jerked his head towards the end of the hall. 

Neil shrugged and turned to his roommates. “Is he always like this?”

“I have no clue what he’s on about,” Matt said, the movie long forgotten behind them. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

Kevin was already at the end of the hallway. The look he shot back at Neil for taking his time was downright murderous. 

“I’ll see how it goes, and let you know,” Neil said, making his decision. He closed the door behind him and headed down the stairs.    


He didn’t catch up to Kevin until they were outside, where Andrew was parked at the curb, resting his head on the steering wheel.

“I expect you to be ready to go tomorrow night,” Kevin said in lieu of explaining what the hell was going on, but Neil got into the backseat anyhow. 

“If you told me what to be ready for,” Neil said smoothly, pulling on his seat belt, “I would know how to prepare.”

It was probably his imagination that the set of Andrew’s shoulders shook slightly. Neil kept his attention on Kevin.

Kevin’s scowl didn’t leave his face. “You need all the practice I can give you. Which means I need you ready at this time every weeknight.”

“Even Friday?” Neil frowned, thinking about trying to practice after a game.

“Not Friday,” Andrew answered for Kevin.    
  
They pulled into the stadium parking lot, and Neil guessed he should have known. Kevin instructed him to get his gear on as Andrew followed them into the locker room. For a split second, Neil worried that Andrew would expect him to undress in front of Kevin now too, but Andrew didn’t say anything when Neil collected his things to change out in the stalls. When he came back out, Kevin was waiting on the court, and Andrew had disappeared.

After they had warmed up and stretched, Kevin set up a series of cones on the court. He motioned to Neil to pay attention, as if he had anything else to distract him--well, except for Andrew, who was around somewhere but clearly not coming out to practice. 

“Call out the numbers, any order,” Kevin commanded, eyeing the cones like his life depended on their placement.

Neil raised an eyebrow, looked at the cones, and called the numbers at random. 

He was astonished to watch Kevin pick up his racquet in his _ left  _ hand and send six balls flying into six cones off of perfect rebounds. The sudden burst of movement and loud rebounds gave way to silence, and Neil leaned forward. 

This was the level of Exy he wanted, and for the moment, everything shifted crystal clear; this was what he needed to do to get it.

Night practice was even more brutal than their daytime practice; Kevin didn’t go any easier on him, even when Neil tripped over his feet once in the middle of a giant yawn. And without anyone else to fuss at, Neil received one hundred percent of Kevin’s ire. But the goal, the level of skill, was dangled in front of him, and Neil couldn't help but jump, trying to go as high as Kevin demanded.

“One last drill,” Kevin said as he set up the cones again. “Get in position.”

Neil was sweating, his legs were tired, his arms were sore, and his shoulders hurt in a way they’d never hurt before. He was exhausted, and he was elated; he got into position and waited.

Kevin started calling the cones, but after calling the first number, he switched and called  _ colors. _ If Neil hadn’t been exhausted, he would have caught himself and forced himself to stare at Kevin in fake confusion.

But he wasn’t confused, he saw colors, and he knocked down the last three cones exactly in the order Kevin called.

This time, when the noise of the rebounds faded, Neil was sure the world could hear his heart pounding not from exertion but from fear. What would Kevin do with this knowledge?

“You see color,” Kevin stated. It was a fact and it was out in the open between them now.

“Was this whole thing a set up?” Neil asked, ice threatening to fill his veins. Had he been so stupid? Would Andrew be upset for revealing that he could see colors? He only just kept himself from searching the stands to see if Andrew was watching.

“I suspected from the way you played over the summer, but it’s good to know,” Kevin replied, as if that answered Neil’s question. “This gives you an advantage. College teams are pretty split; they can’t always catch players who see in color. But you can’t make Court without it.”

Exy. Neil should have known that was all Kevin would care about. His shoulders sagged with relief under his padded gear. Another thought lodged itself in Neil’s head.

“So how come we didn’t start doing these practices sooner?” Neil asked as they gathered up cones and balls to clear the court.

Kevin’s eye roll could have been seen from space. “I don’t know what you did to Andrew, but he wouldn’t let me bring you here until now.”

The conversation in the car he’d heard earlier today, Neil thought. He wondered if showing his scars to Andrew in Colombia had been directly responsible for Andrew’s change of heart or if it was something else. It wasn’t the sort of conversation to bring up in the middle of the night, anyhow, so Neil settled for silently following Kevin and Andrew back to the car and heading up to his dorm.

Matt had stayed up to wait for him, and, after the ups and downs of the night practice, Neil couldn’t figure out how to tell him thank you.

No one ever waited up for him with good intentions before.

Matt smiled, cutting off his unintelligible sentence. “Get some sleep, kid. You’re going to need it.”

Neil crawled up into his bed, took out his contacts, and blinked twice before falling dead asleep.

The rest of the week sped by in a blur of practice, more practice, a pointless visit to the school psychiatrist, more practice, the start of classes and their very first Exy game. 

Neil marveled at the sound of so many fans in one place, at the excitement of putting on his jersey and holding his racquet as they lined up to go on the court at the beginning of the match. He only scored two points, and they lost, but it was the first match of the season, and he could only get better. He had also watched open mouthed as Andrew had stood in the path of a giant backliner nicknamed Gorilla without flinching.

The next thing he knew, they’d done an interview bright and early Saturday morning with Kathy Ferdinand on live TV, she’d surprised Kevin with his former teammate and adoptive brother Riko, and Neil had chewed Riko out in front of everyone. 

The drive back to campus had been awkward, to say the least.

Now Neil was standing in front of Andrew, who’d summoned him to his room via Nicky. Andrew, who was sitting at the windowsill of what used to be an intact window. The glass bore a round, jagged hole where Andrew’s fist had been.

Andrew’s hand was covered in dried blood. Neil, who was used to seeing blood in shades of gray, was fascinated by the bright red of the fresh blood, a contrast to the darkening scarlett of the dried blood. The fascination made him sick to his stomach. He fought the urge to offer to look for glass splinters in his knuckles and stood in the doorway, wondering where this conversation was going to go. They hadn’t exchanged more than a handful of words this week, and Andrew hadn’t gone out of his way to get to Neil like this.

Not alone.

“So,” Andrew said, staring out the window. “I must have misjudged the situation.” His voice was deadly low and Neil fought the urge to back right out of the room.

He squared up his shoulders instead, not willing to be pushed around by anyone, up to and including his soulmate.

“Does danger find you, or do you simply open your mouth and invite everyone to take a shot at you?” Andrew phrased it as a question, but Neil had the distinct impression he wasn’t supposed to answer, not yet. Sure enough, Andrew continued. “You tell me you’re nobody, but you’re clearly running from somebody. Neil.” Andrew turned from the window, jumped down from his perch, and stalked across the room, closing the gap between them in three strides.

Neil stared into Andrew’s eyes, watching with fascination at the dark, deep storm behind them.

“Are you really so incredibly dumb? If you’re lying to me about anything, you must be.” Andrew took the collar of Neil’s t-shirt in one hand and pulled him closer. Flecks of gold shimmered dangerously in Andrew’s eyes.

“Riko was obviously making Kevin uncomfortable. I couldn’t not say anything,” Neil protested, but Andrew’s face didn’t change.

“You could have said many things to diffuse the situation. You chose to go straight for his throat.” Andrew paused, like he was going to say something else, and then he sighed, releasing Neil’s collar. A drop of blood from his hand had dripped onto Neil’s shirt. “You gave Riko a target and bent over backwards to attach it to your back. What do you think will happen next?”

Neil blanched at the thought. He knew the only way this could end, and he hated himself for forcing his hand too soon. He’d only get the one Exy game. It was over before it started. He needed to leave tonight. It was probably already too late; Riko was a Moriyama and he had resources. Neil would have to be twice as alert, go twice as far away when he dropped the name Neil Josten and ran.

“Neil.” Andrew’s voice, calm and bored, cut through Neil’s thoughts. “Look at you, mentally stuffing your bag already and getting ready to leave. Do you really think you can outrun Riko?”

“I--” Neil paused. He knew he could, but he also knew the cost would be everything. He’d never be able to pick up a racquet again. His gut wrenched oddly at the thought of never seeing Andrew again.

“You know you can’t,” Andrew sighed, taking in Neil from head to toe as if he was a lost cause, a puppy who couldn’t find its way home. “Tell me this. What will it take to keep you here?”

Neil did a double take. He couldn’t help it. “I’m dead if I stay.”

“You’re dead if you leave,” Andrew corrected him. “Go on, dream big. Imagine.” Andrew held out his hands like he was painting a picture. Blood was still oozing down his hand, the occasional drop hitting the floor. “Neil Josten, number 10. On the Foxes Court for the entire season. Scoring every game. Beloved by his teammates, his fans. Untouchable by his enemies.”

“Why do you want me to stay?” Neil whispered. His very bones ached with the desire to stay, to be as close as he would be to home. And part of him knew Andrew was telling the truth; Neil on the run meant he would die alone. Here, he could be well known enough to stay alive. The idea crashed into him like an icy wave, and he stood, paralysed, waiting for Andrew’s answer.

Andrew shook his head, and laughed. It was not a pleasant laugh. “Ask me later. Perhaps when we are in Colombia tonight.” He reached up, taking Neil’s collar in his hand once more. “Or you can run. Either way, make your decision by tonight.” Andrew pushed Neil away, a shove with more force than Neil expected. He stumbled back a step before he caught his footing. Andrew walked back to the window, pulling out an unlit cigarette and acting as though Neil was no longer there.

Long after Neil had retreated back to his own room, the rush of hope still coursed in his veins like a dangerous poison; would it help him stay alive or would it destroy him before he had a chance?

He came back to the cousin’s dorm room that night at nine, his decision made. He told himself six different ways that he wasn’t staying just because Andrew was his  _ soulmate, _ but if that wasn’t the truth, then the reality was even worse; he was staying solely on the support of a potentially psychotic teammate who seemed convinced he could fight the world for Neil. 

When the door opened, Neil didn’t know what he was going to say. He was saved from words by Andrew, who was the one to open the door. Andrew’s outfit, a fine black mesh long sleeved shirt over his ever present armbands and loose black cargo pants, was a very in your face reminder where they were going tonight, and Neil paused, reliving their last trip to Colombia.

Andrew put two fingers up to Neil’s neck, feeling for his pulse point. Neil’s heart pounded faster, and he reached up to push Andrew’s hand away. 

Andrew caught his hand, and smiled, a dangerous thing. “You chose to stay. Own your choice, Neil.” He pushed through the door and took Neil with him. The others came out of the room behind them, Nicky looking excited and happy for Neil, Aaron disinterested, and Kevin looking at Andrew.

Matt and Dan were in the hallway, relieved to see Neil. They offered to keep Neil with them for the evening, but Andrew shook his head. “He’s ours now. You know that.” 

Neil didn’t know how he felt about being  _ theirs _ , but he had a whole car ride to think about it. 

He turned it over in his head while they ate ice cream, and when Nicky shoved a bag of clothes--from Andrew, of course--for him to change in the bathroom, Neil changed with minimal protest, emerging in another ridiculous outfit; this time he had a mesh shirt like Andrew's, but Andrew had cared enough to layer it with a cobalt blue shirt with long sleeves. The pants this time were a bit looser, for which Neil was grateful. He didn’t feel like spending ten minutes in a bathroom stall yanking jeans over his thighs. 

He took out his contacts without looking at the mirror and avoided Nicky’s appreciative stare on the way back to their table.

Neil thought about  _ being theirs _ when Andrew told him he could make his own choice for if he was in or out for dust.

He thought about it when they got to the bar, and Andrew told Roland to keep the drinks clean. Andrew laughed when he saw Neil inspect the empty glass for residue before pouring his can of sprite in it.

“Too bad you weren’t smart enough to mistrust us before.” 

Neil scowled. He wasn’t sure how much he appreciated Andrew’s secondhand comments, as if he hadn’t been the one to drug Neil a week back.

“I am bored to tears by your attempt at a scowl,” Andrew said as they waited for Roland to finish the rest of the drinks for the group. “Let’s play the honesty game again, just like before. It keeps things interesting.”

“I’m not taking my shirt off again,” Neil said, pleased at the firmness to his words.

“I wouldn’t take the same truth twice anyhow,” Andrew said, waving off the idea. “Try again.”

“I hate you. I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you, and I think you’re very unpleasant.”

Neil hadn’t expected his harsh words to go over well with Andrew, but Andrew just shrugged. “The feeling is mutual, so that’s not really a truth either. You’ve got one more try.”

The moments ticked by as Neil considered what truth he could share with Andrew that wouldn’t come back to haunt him. He thought back to Nicky talking to Aaron and Andrew in German, took a deep breath, and said, in German, “Can you really protect me from the people who would kill me?”

Andrew raised an eyebrow and frowned. His reply was also in German. “Has no one told you I don’t like surprises?”

Neil shrugged, pleased at provoking a reaction, however small, from Andrew. He switched back to English. “You wanted a truth. And I want an answer.”

“Yes.” Andrew’s response was so swift and sure that Neil didn’t know who he was trying to convince; Neil, or himself.

That was the moment Roland showed up with the drinks for their group, so Neil didn’t have a chance to pry into Andrew’s answer. Andrew hefted the tray of drinks up and the rest of the evening was condensed into an hour and a half of Kevin, Nicky, and Aaron slamming drinks at an accelerated rate. 

Neil thought about Andrew’s words again, that he was theirs. Andrew had disappeared with the empty tray of drinks and Neil spent the entire time it took him to get back staring into the crowd, not really seeing anything and wondering if he was truly safe. Andrew was right; he had gotten the biggest target he could find and all but attached it to his back for Riko. He had stopped short of painting his real name on his jersey for next week’s game, but he had done the next worst thing. He’d gotten Riko mad.

By the time Andrew got back, the last call for drinks had gone out, and Neil couldn’t think how best to bring up Riko again. Kevin could barely stand, and Nicky was laughing about something Aaron said. After Kevin stumbled a few steps and nearly sprawled sideways, Andrew basically tossed him over his shoulder and brought him to the car, which, given their height differences, struck Neil as a fairly impressive feat. 

Neil had no doubts Andrew could go up against any of his Riko’s heavy hitters that came after Neil. As Andrew drove them to the house, Neil watched the streetlights pass by. Andrew knew how to handle a knife, how to be prepared. 

By the time they pulled into the driveway of the house about seven minutes later, Neil had almost convinced himself that Andrew might be able to keep him alive, at least for a while. Maybe it could be enough. 

Aaron’s phone rang as he got out of the car. Neil listened halfheartedly as Aaron mumbled something into the receiver while watching Andrew walking up the driveway. Andrew stopped to grab a cigarette from his pocket, right as Aaron started shaking his head.

“What?” Aaron said, his voice too loud for the quiet street. He shoved his phone towards Andrew. “You talk to Coach.”

Andrew took the phone, tucking it between his shoulder and his ear as he pulled out his lighter and cupped his hands around the cigarette. The end lit up, red and smoky. 

“It’s too late to be pulling prank calls,” Andrew was saying, as Neil got out of the car. “I don’t have time for-” Andrew cut off for a moment, head still tilted towards the phone, the smoke of his burning cigarette floating on the air. “Coach says Seth overdosed.”

“Again?” Nicky sighed. “He’s gotta learn-”

“He’s dead,” Andrew corrected Nicky before taking a deep inhale. The tip of his cigarette burned bright, bright red.

Nicky let out a startled, strangled gasp. Kevin asked something about the line up and Neil heard Aaron smack him on the back of the head.

“He’s  _ dead _ ,” Aaron whisper-shouted, as if he could keep it from being real by not saying it too loud.

Neil knew better. Death was always looming, always just two steps behind him and waiting for him to make a misstep. He supposed perhaps Nicky and Aaron hadn’t been around death all that much, and Kevin was probably one drink away from passing out.

But Andrew hadn’t flinched when he heard the news directly from Coach. That went directly in the "Andrew Minyard had seen some shit" column Neil was keeping. 

Andrew was staring at Neil as he got out of the car, leaving the others. 

"That's curious," he said, waving his cigarette at Neil in an accusation. "Your roommate, your teammate, dead. And not a feather ruffled on Neil Josten's shoulders."

Neil breathed in the cigarette smoke. For a moment, he was back at the beach, his mother's body burning. The quiet, cool air of suburban Colombia wasn’t anything like the salt spray of the beach, but the smoke bridged the difference. Neil reached out, and grabbed Andrew’s cigarette. For whatever reason, Andrew didn’t comment. He just used his newly freed hand to grab his keys out of his pocket as he walked to the door of the house.

Their teammates were still by the car behind them, still processing the loss of, if not a friend, someone whose day to day life had been uniquely intertwined with theirs. 

“I don’t get suicide,” Neil said, bluntly. He let the smoke build around him, still not putting the cigarette in his mouth. Ash crumbled from the tip, and he thought back to the night he’d met Andrew back in Millport. “I’ve spent too much of my life fighting to stay alive. Why throw that away?”

Andrew finished unlocking the front door, and fiddled with his key ring a minute longer before pushing the door open. He turned around, facing Neil, his face unreadable. “That’s why you presented yourself to Riko on a silver platter? To stay alive?” He plucked his cigarette back out of Neil’s hand, and took a long drag. “I’m beginning to think maybe you aren’t as smart as I gave you credit for. And mind, I didn’t give you much.”

Neil shrugged. He didn’t have a good answer. He was beginning to question his own intelligence. For a moment, he followed the trajectory of Neil Josten not being recruited to the Foxes. Graduating from Millport. Starting another round of life on the run with no one but himself. Somehow, that seemed infinitely closer to suicide than whatever he had here with the Foxes. With Andrew. 

Andrew shoved his hand forward without a word and Neil, on instinct, put his hand out. Andrew pressed a key into his palm; the key he’d used to open the door to the house.

The key lay heavy in his hand. The edge varied in a typical, basic lock pattern. Not easy enough to pick on the first try, but probably doable in three. But it didn’t matter; Neil had the key to the house. He wouldn’t have to pick the lock. He could let himself in. 

Andrew was letting him in. Literally, he was motioning for Neil to go inside. “Go sleep. We’ll have to go back in the morning to make Coach happy.”

Neil just nodded. He didn’t dare let Andrew see that getting the key affected him more than Seth’s sudden death. He made his way down the hallway and paused, turning back to look at Andrew again.

Against the darkness outside, Andrew was outlined in a white glow from the porch light, smoke from his cigarette a halo above his pale head of hair. Andrew was no guardian angel, Neil knew that much, but he stood watching his chosen family as they mourned outside. 

He tore his eyes away, and went into the den. Away from Andrew’s prying, knowing eyes, Neil looked at the key in his hand again. He was dangerously close to being home, and people like Neil Josten didn’t get to be home. 


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Foxes play against the Terrapins and the next day, Andrew gets a visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah hell. Remember when I was all like, this'll be a 5+1, and then I added a few more sections? Well I'm adding another one. So sorry. ;p I'm really dying to share the rest of this story (we're ALLLLLLLMOST to the hurt/comfort chapter which is my favorite, tied with Andrew's section at the end) and it's super motivating for writing. But then as I'm writing, there's just more and more to be added. My "loss" is your gain, I hope! :)

#  5

Unsurprisingly, Seth’s death hit the Foxes like a riptide, taking their already tiny team and depositing them on the far side of okay. Once again, they had to break free of another set back and claw their way back to the shore to prove they could keep going even when nothing went their way.

Practice without Seth that week meant practice without Allison. It was Wednesday, Andrew’s day for his appointment with the school psychiatrist, so they were down three players, and practice was a whole different beast. For one thing, Neil thought grimly as he listened to Dan calling the drill and ran to his spot, it was a lot quieter.

Less fighting. Less angry words. Neil was used to Kevin and Seth calling out his every misstep. Kevin did his best, but he was still only one person. Practice ended on an odd, out of sorts energy. Neil had a feeling his more human teammates were hesitant to state the silver lining of Seth’s death out loud, but it was impossible to ignore.

For the first time, Neil wondered if maybe the Foxes would have a chance.

When Friday rolled around, Neil was less certain. He’d had too many hours to consider every way it could go wrong. With Seth gone, Neil was replacing him in the starting line up as a complete amateur. He’d pushed himself every night at practice with Kevin, but it was still going to take time. Neil didn’t have time, so he tried harder, falling asleep most nights before his head even hit the pillow.

Still, reality was unpleasant when Wymack circled them around in the locker room. Neil moved quickly to avoid Allison. Seth was dead because of him, and he didn’t know how to address that. He’d never figured out how to grieve himself. 

Reality was even more unpleasant when Wymack went over the line-up for the evening, shuffling Matt from defense into substitute striker and Renee from goal to substitute dealer.

Andrew would play the whole game in goal.

“Andrew doesn’t play full games,” Kevin said, staring down Wymack. Neil had already heard Kevin’s many rants about how Andrew didn’t care enough about Exy and could only be bribed to play one half as it was.

“I guess I do now,” Andrew said with a casual shrug. 

Kevin nearly had an aneurysm from the way his face went a mottled purple red with sudden anger. “So you won’t play full games for me, but Coach asks you once and you’re on board?”

Matt stood up, ready to hold back Kevin if needed, and Dan and Renee were halfway to their feet too, but Andrew just tilted his head towards Kevin, affecting a completely fake innocent look and saying, “Well, sure, Kevin. He asked.”

“He. Asked.” Kevin repeated, the vein in his forehead throbbing. 

“Yes. Oh,” added Andrew, tapping his forehead as if he was just thinking of something, “And it’s fun to tell you no.”

Neil watched the scene without really participating. Kevin wouldn’t risk hurting Andrew on a game night, no matter how riled up Andrew tried to get him. Andrew would play the goal for the whole game, which was interesting since he’d previously claimed to be allergic to playing full games, specifically that he was “allergic to the boredom that comes from standing in goal for two halves of a boring game.”

A fiery panic tried to rise under Neil’s skin. He was a starting freshman. He didn’t belong on the court for the whole first half, let alone to come back for part of the second half. But he looked at the calm, determined way Dan and Renee were gathering up everyone to head to the bus after ensuring Kevin and Andrew were as far apart as possible. He saw the cautious optimism on Nicky’s face as he rolled the racquets down the hallway. 

Neil shoved the panic down. He had to try his best, and if his best wasn’t good enough, he had to try harder. It was the least he could do when he was about to leave the Foxes down another striker when the year was over.

Out, the Fox’s team bus gleamed in the sun: bright, glossy white with orange fox prints and their team name splashed across the side. It was hideous, but in the obnoxious way that sports teams could get away with. It meant that no one could pretend they didn’t see the Foxes coming. They couldn’t hide. Neil kind of liked it. He filed onto the bus behind Matt and Nicky. The upperclassmen rallied around Allison, and sat two to a row up front on the front two seats. 

Nicky and Aaron and Andrew claimed rows to themselves in the back. Neil was about to grab his own when Kevin reached out and grabbed him. 

“We need to talk about tonight’s game,” Kevin hissed in lieu of a greeting, or small talk, or any other sort of typical conversation pleasantry.

Neil didn’t mind. “I need all the help I can get,” Neil agreed. “What do you have?”

They spent the drive to Belmonte University discussing the Terrapin’s line up. When they were about ten minutes out from the campus, Kevin lowered his voice and leaned in.

“You’ve got to play to your advantage,” Kevin said, quiet enough that no one else could hear over the noise of the road and the bus and the upperclassmen’s quiet but consistent conversations. “No one is going to expect you to see color. They have a few color coordinations they like to keep on the down low. Keep an eye on their bandannas. They use colors that come across similarly if someone sees them in grayscale, and they use them to call their fake outs mid-game.”

Neil nodded, listening intently. A low current of energy started to build in his chest. He could do this, he could take his misfortune of being Andrew Minyard’s soulmate and he could use it to make a difference on the team.

By the time they pulled past security and to the parking lot, Neil’s head was clearer than it’d been in days. He wasn’t thankful Seth was gone, but he was ready to prove his worth on the court in his absence. 

A small part of him wanted to play so well that even Andrew would be impressed, that even Andrew would see how much fun, how awesome Exy could be. 

“Just don’t catch every play,” Kevin warned as they stood up to go inside. “Don’t let them suspect that you can tell. Let’s take advantage of this as long as we can.”

Neil nodded. Excitement hummed around him with every step he took into the Terrapin’s locker room. 

Less than half an hour later, he was walking onto the court, head held high as he heard his name announced to the stadium to polite applause from the home team and cheers from the small but mighty section of Foxes fans in the visitor section. He was determined to make everyone proud.

“I told our coach he didn’t even need to play two backliners today,” his mark, Herrera, taunted from his spot across from Neil. “A cripple and a nobody on offense all night? It’s like you’re trying to lose.”

Neil held his gaze as he shifted into a ready stance. The Terrapin dealer had won the opening serve and took a half court shot on goal. Neil couldn’t help his smile when Andrew didn’t even move to block the ball; it bounced harmlessly inches outside of his goal. Andrew grabbed it from the rebound and then whipped the ball down the court toward Kevin.

As much as Neil wanted to tear after the ball and leave his mark in the dust, he played it safe, jogging down the court to keep in view of Kevin, keeping himself as open as possible for passes. Kevin feinted left, went right three steps, passed to himself, and kept going.

“See?” Herrera taunted. “He doesn’t need you. He doesn’t even want you on the same court as him.”

Neil rolled his eyes, and kept his eyes on the ball. But by five minutes in, he was already chafing from the continuous trash talk and dying to wipe the smug look off of Herrera’s face. Tension wound itself into Neil’s arms and he gripped his racquet harder.

“Whoops, there’s another ball going by. You sure you don’t want that one either?” Herrera called. “I should have brought my best china with me, didn’t know we were having a tea party.”

In one ear and out the other, Neil thought to himself, watching the ball, even as his heart raced. He noticed Herrera reached behind his back and realized that he’d adjusted his bandana to show a new color. Curious, Neil watched to see the effect on the game. After a minute, he noticed that their goalie was sending balls across the opposite side as before, trying to help their offense get past Nicky, who was starting to tire out.

Neil kept his eye on the ball, but now he started to watch all the Terrapin players, trying to suss out which were able to use the color system and which didn’t. It kept his attention off of Herrera until midway through the half, when Dan came on for Kevin.

Kevin stopped by Neil just long enough to say two words: “Destroy him.”

The electricity that had been building since they got onto the bus threatened to explode as Neil grinned. He turned towards Herrera, aware that his smiled was starting to twist up the corners of his mouth in a mirror image of his father’s terrible grin. For once, he didn’t mind. He wanted Herrera to be scared.

“What, you finally going crazy not doing anything?” Herrera called out, but there was a moment of hesitation in his taunt.

Neil locked eyes on Herrera as the countdown to serve sounded. Renee had come in for Allison, and she took the serve. Instead of tossing the ball down to Kevin, she turned and flung the ball towards Andrew. Andrew affected the same air of nonchalance as he had when the Terrapin dealer shot on his goal, but Renee’s aim was true; he caught her pass as surely as if they’d practiced it day in and day out. 

“Hey, pinocchio, this one’s for you,” Andrew called down the court a moment before flinging the ball to Neil, and Neil took off running. 

Herrera’s surprised cursing behind him was fuel for the fire, and Neil didn’t stop moving until he’d caught the ball. He ran ten steps, passed to himself, and took ten more steps. His shot on goal wasn’t perfect, and Herrera crashed into him a moment later, but the goal lit up red, and that was all Neil needed to see. 

“Lucky break,” Herrera grunted, slamming his racquet too close to Neil. 

Neil just grinned. He’d never felt as alive as he did those last ten minutes of the first half, running like his life depended on it, passing back and forth with Dan, and trying his hardest to trip up Herrera at every turn. By the last minute of the first half, Herrera was cursing more and more colorfully. When Dan passed off of a near-perfect rebound, Neil caught the ball, aware that Herrera was just a step away. He knew he’d lose the ball if he was off balance when Herrera crashed into him, so he braced himself instead and ducked low.

Herrera vaulted over him, unable to stop. Neil grunted at the impact, but he didn’t drop his racquet and he didn’t drop the ball. He passed it back to Dan, who slammed it down towards the goal and tied the game. The crowd screamed their approval, and Neil wore his father’s grin again as he exited the court for half time.

The locker room was faintly buzzing with excitement and cautious optimism. Abby was passing around cups of water and sports drinks, and Wymack gave feedback on several of the plays, as well as a run down of the players they’d be likely to see in the second half.

“Hey, Neil, how are you doing?” Andrew called out, and Neil turned to face him. 

“I’m fine,” he said, curious as to why Andrew would ask.

Nicky grinned. “Thanks for making me spending money for our next shopping trip!”

“Seriously, someone bet against Neil?” Matt asked, shaking his head. Andrew tilted his head towards Kevin, who was stalking over to Neil.

“Neil,” Kevin growled. “I don’t want to hear ‘I’m fine’ as you knock yourself out of the season by pulling those risky moves, do you hear me?”

Neil nodded. It was easier than telling Kevin no. “I would have gotten hurt more if I had tried to start moving before he got to me.”

“So say  _ that _ ,” Kevin spat out.

Despite Kevin’s annoyance, Neil was running on cloud nine, knowing he had scored on goal twice and assisted for a third goal. 

At the start of the second half, Neil paced the outside of the court and watched the ball fly back and forth, both teams scrambling to turn the game in their favor. Andrew held his own in goal, but the two points Dan and Kevin managed to get were matched by the Terrapin strikers. The score was still tied when Neil came back on the court.

He wasn’t quite on a second wind, but he kept his new backliner mark busy as best he could, following the play of the ball. Matt sent the ball upcourt to Renee who got it to Dan. Suddenly, Neil’s backliner mark disappeared to chase Dan, subtly adjusting his bandana as he did.

Neil followed the color, and realized they were going to shift the ball to the opposite side of the court again. He skidded to a stop and spun back to the other side of the court, ignoring the confused shout Renee sent his way. The two backliners slammed into Dan, and she lost the ball. She spun around to sweep the backliner off his feet, but the ball was already moving--

\--into Neil’s racquet as he swept it up just in time to catch the ball. His backliner mark was too far away, and Neil ran like his life depended on it, flinging the ball down the court in a nearly perfect goal. 

A second later, his backliner mark had barrelled into him, but he wasn’t going fast enough to make it a solid collision, and the crowd’s roar in Neil’s ears kept him from fighting back. The backliner glared at Neil, trying to determine how he had read their play.

“I saw your strikers shift to the left,” Neil lied with a nonchalance that covered his delicious burst of adrenaline. “You might want to tell them to be less obvious next time.”

Adrenaline wasn’t quite enough to push the Foxes to the finish line; Neil knew his speed was flagging, but he gasped in great breaths of air and kept pushing. Kevin came back on for Dan, but he could only do so much against fresh backliners. The Terrapins pushed forward in a terrible surge at the last minute, their striker breaking free of Aaron and sprinting to the goal.

Neil watched, his chest aching from lack of oxygen and a sudden horrible burst of exhaustion. If the Terrapins scored, they’d go to a shootout, and Neil wasn’t sure how much longer he and Kevin could stand. 

Andrew was shifting to ready in the goal, but the striker was already shooting, aiming as far from Andrew as he could. Neil’s heart  _ jumped _ ; before the striker even released the ball, Andrew was already moving, stretching out his racquet, and diving to the ground. The ball bounced off his shoulder pad, and rolled out to the floor.

For one incredibly long moment, everyone stared, and then there was a flurry of motion as Matt, Aaron, and both the Terrapin strikers dashed to the ball.

It was too late; the buzzer went off a few seconds later, and Neil forgot his exhaustion one last time to jog down to his team to celebrate. He tried to catch Andrew’s eye, to convey how impressed and proud he was, but Andrew had gotten to his feet and was simply surveying the court. Neil couldn’t help the pang of disappointment; the game had been incredible, and he realized that a sizable part of him had been hoping the excitement was enough to catch Andrew in its grasp. 

But just like everything else, Andrew seemed content to stay on his own. Dan and Matt crushed Neil in a friendly hug, and Neil turned his attention back to celebrating their hard-earned win.

The next day saw everyone on the team sleeping in and lounging in their dorms, beyond worn out from the long, intense stretches they’d played last night. After a cup of coffee with Matt, Neil wandered over to Andrew’s dorm, looking for Kevin. He wanted feedback on the game and wanted to set his goals for the next week.

“You’re here for Exy?” Andrew asked when he opened the door. “You really are a junkie, aren’t you?”

Neil scrunched up his face at the comment; he just wanted to go over the game while it was still fresh in his mind. Last night, he’d been too tired to do anything except doze off on the bus. He opened his mouth to explain himself to Andrew when Kevin popped his head out of his room.

“Good timing, Neil,” Kevin said. 

Andrew glanced Kevin’s way and then whispered loud enough for Kevin to hear, “Oh my. Kevin in a good mood. You really must have done something good last night.”

Even though the praise was somewhat second hand, Neil’s heart still warmed from Andrew’s almost compliment. “Actually, I wanted to say that you were really incredible in goal, too. You knew where that striker was going to aim before he did I think!”

Andrew rolled his eyes and went back to his bowl of cereal. “Junkie.” He picked up his spoon, and pointed toward’s Kevin’s room. “Question, Neil. If you didn’t think about Exy, would you have a single thought left in your head?”

Neil thought about that as he headed down the hallway. Sure, Exy took up most of his thoughts, but only because without it, he’d have to think about his father. He’d have to think about his mother’s dead body. He’d have to think about… Andrew. Before he could prod that line of thought, Kevin started talking. 

“I think you did a good job between reading their plays without letting them know you were on to them,” Kevin began. He pulled a piece of paper off of his desk, a bullet point list in his neat handwriting. Neil tried to catch a glimpse, but couldn’t. “However, we’ve got a lot to focus on. I made a list.”

Neil tried to ignore the length of the list and focus on the fact that Kevin thought he  _ could _ improve. They were halfway through the list when there was another knock at the door, heavy and pounding. Neil was almost at the door before Kevin could shoot a curious look at his reaction.

“Only Kevin and pigs knock like that,” Andrew said casually as Neil went to the door. “What makes you think you can answer the door for our room like that?”

The pounding knock came again, along with a, “Officer Higgins.”

Andrew got up, his cereal bowl splashing milk on the counter, and sauntered to the door. He tossed a look at Neil. “You go scurry back to Kevin.”

Neil paused, unsure whether he should stay to help or not. Andrew’s flat glare decided it for him, and he headed back down the hallway, straining to listen as Andrew opened the door a crack. “Pig Higgins, you’re a long way from California, now aren’t you?”

The officer on the other side of the door said something, and Andrew went out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

“Uh, I wasn’t aware Andrew was in trouble with the law?” Neil asked, a blatant fish for information. Kevin didn’t take the bait, and started in on the list again.

Thankfully, Nicky popped his head in a few moments later. Clearly, Higgins knocking at the door had woken him up; his hair was tousled in three different directions and he had an indent on his cheek from the press of his blanket. “Was that Higgins, like, Oakland Higgins?”

Kevin scowled. “Yes.”

“Who’s he?” Neil asked, more direct now that Nicky had joined the conversation.

“Oh, it’s a long story,” Nicky said, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. “In a nutshell, he’s the officer who let Andrew and Aaron know they were twins. And he got Andrew into the best juvie facility in California I guess. Or at least, that’s what Andrew said. It was possibly sarcastic. I didn’t ask again.”

Neil stared.

“Yeah,” Nicky said, apologetically. “It’s a lot for, oh, well I guess it’s almost noon. Let’s make some lunch and I can tell you about it.” When Kevin started to protest, he added, “You need your strength if you’re going to keep telling Neil everything he’s got to improve on.”

Kevin crossed his arms over his chest, but followed Nicky out of his room. They made sandwiches, and Neil listened as Nicky detailed the twin’s story, starting with separating at birth and ending with their mother dying in a car accident. 

A minute after Nicky finished, Andrew came back. He didn’t acknowledge anyone in the room, stopping only long enough to throw out the congealed cereal left in his bowl before heading into his room.

“So,” Nicky said, his voice just above a whisper. “Andrew’s not in trouble with them as far as I know, but of course I never got the whole story.”

Neil nodded as he considered the different reasons an officer from California flew out to South Carolina to speak to a former foster kid. He didn’t come back with anything positive. 

But the next morning, when Neil tried to bring it up with Andrew during practice at the gym, Andrew refused to say a single word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So anyhow, in this chapter it's obvious I completely cut the "Andrew's random anti psychotics" plotline. I really love the books, but that aspect was so-so. And since it's not really going to come up in the context of this fic, I just wanted to share that Andrew is bipolar. After lots of trial and error with his meds (started in juvie and continued by Bee), he takes seroquel at night and depakote er in the morning. If he doesn't take the seroquel, he has a hard time falling asleep and once he's taken it, he falls asleep pretty quick! If he's woken up suddenly overnight, he tends to get super nauseated and has thrown up a time or two before. 
> 
> And also:: Spoiler-ish? alert? for my own fic? As you can guess, the meds not being part of the plotline means other events in that cascade of events are not happening but don't worry, I still have Plans for these guys! 
> 
> Thank you guys so so so much for reading. I appreciate every kudos and comment!!! Seriously amazing fandom, I'm so glad to have found it.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gym conversations between Neil and Andrew, the Foxes play against the Ravens, and Neil goes to Castle Evermore for winter break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo! I am SO pumped to get this chapter up, because this was the second to last thing I had to write. There's just a bit at the end of chapter 8 I have to finish now and everything else is just editing and posting! I'm so excited, especially because, while I like this chapter for a lot of reasons, chapter 7 is one of my favorites and now I'm closer to sharing it! I hope y'all enjoy the ride :)

#  6

California. 

Neil preferred not to think about it. He kept busy with practice and classwork and occasionally catching a few hours of sleep, and almost managed to keep Andrew and California out of his thoughts. Neil tried to shake Nicky down for more details, but Nicky had already told all he knew, so Neil kept a closer eye on Andrew and wondered what he was hiding.

If Andrew was bothered by the police officer’s visit or Neil’s scrutiny, he didn’t show it at first. He spent half the practice pointedly not listening to Dan and Kevin and the other half lobbing goal returns at everyone’s helmets which was well within the bounds of normal for him. When Kevin tried to chew him out for it, he shrugged.

“I’m helping build reflexes,” Andrew said, balancing his racquet on his shoulders. “So that no one will get hurt when an errant ball heads their way.”

Neil stifled a laugh. Kevin’s glare would have given Riko’s icy stare a run for its money, but Andrew wasn’t phased. He spent the next ten minutes aiming every return directly at Kevin’s throat until Dan decided it was Renee’s turn in the goal.

Andrew gave his two finger salute and ambled off the court. Instead of sitting on the bench, he kept going and disappeared into the locker room. He had driven them to practice, and Neil wondered if he was going to leave them walking. 

When practice ended, Neil hustled to be the first person to the locker room. Andrew was on the phone, in the middle of a conversation. 

“You’ll have to serve papers before I so much as look in the direction of the west coast again,” he was saying when he must have heard the door open, because he hung up on his mystery caller without another word. His phone was already in his pocket before Neil was through the door.

Neil knew better than to ask, but a part of him prickled. It was weird to know that something was happening, and Andrew was his soulmate, and Neil was supposed to just… not ask. He didn’t care, but there was some crevice in his brain that was trying to care. Neil didn’t get why, so he settled for saying, “The rest of practice was boring without you.”

Andrew’s smirk was devilish. “Kevin doesn’t think so.”

The rest of the team was filing in behind Neil, so he kept moving, tossing his gear on the benches and heading to the showers. By the time he’d changed out, Andrew was already waiting outside at the car, smoking a cigarette and staring out past the campus, as if he was lost on the California coast.

But Neil knew he was just projecting, so he didn’t say anything as he got into the car behind Nicky.

Another week went by, and the others wrote off Andrew’s moodiness as normal for him, but Neil didn’t think it was just an act. Andrew antagonized practice for longer and longer, not falling in line for Kevin or Dan or even Wymack’s exasperated intervention when Andrew spent his time in goal covering the exact opposite spot that Kevin and Neil shot at.

By the third week, Neil had enough. 

Dan called the drill, and Andrew got into his spot, planted his feet like he wasn’t going to move an inch, and stayed still as Neil approached for a goal. He didn’t move, even when Neil was within shooting range, even when Neil was getting close enough to see the gold flecks in the hazel of Andrew’s eyes, even when Neil slammed into Andrew in a fit of rage.

Andrew barely stepped back, even with Neil barreling into him at full speed.

“You can’t just stand there!” Neil fumed.

Matt had already jogged over, and he stood at the ready to keep Neil from throwing a punch. 

Neil took an exaggerated step back, holding up his hands. “I’m not going to hit him.” He addressed Andrew directly, not even bothering to use German. “I don’t care if you don’t want to play during night practice. It’s extra time, not required. Fine. Whatever. But this is our time together as a team, and it’s bullshit that you’re going to tell me time and time again that you don’t bring your issues onto the court and then pretend like that’s not exactly what you’re doing.”

“Whoa, Josten,” Allison said from somewhere behind him with a low whistle. “You like to live on the edge, kid.”

Andrew hadn’t given any indication that he was listening, that he cared, that he was going to do anything different, and Neil’s rage was building, his blood threatening to boil. Neil only had months left before he had to give up everything. Andrew had as much time as he wanted, and he was choosing to act out. 

It was bullshit that they were soulmates. Neil stood there, seething on the court and waiting for Andrew to do anything besides stare at him with heavy lidded hazel eyes. It was bullshit. 

“See, this is what I like about you, Neil,” Andrew said, as if Neil hadn’t accused him of anything more than missing an easy goal. “You keep things interesting.”

Neil could have hissed in frustration, but Andrew shifted into an actual ready position, and gestured to Dan to start the scrimmage again.

Dan looked from Andrew to Neil before nodding. “Alright guys. Let’s set up and take it from the top. Remember, we’re going against the Wolfpack this Friday, and they’re known for their solid defense. We’re not finished until Kevin and Neil can’t hold their racquets anymore.” 

Neil didn’t pull his hair out in frustration, but only because he had his helmet on. Of course Andrew had decided to play along now. Neil's outburst had all of the upperclassmen glancing among each other. Of course Andrew had waited until he’d pushed Neil as close to the edge as he could.

This time, when Neil approached the goal, spinning frantically to avoid Matt and keeping the ball trained on the goal, Andrew whipped his racquet up and to the side, catching Neil’s vicious shot on goal as if Neil had merely been playing a casual game of catch. Neil wasn’t sure whether he was frustrated, impressed, or a bit of both. Andrew took the ball, and flung it down the entire length of the court, shooing Neil away with his racquet. 

As Neil jogged down the court to get the ball, he made up his mind that he wasn’t going to rest until he figured out what was going on with Andrew.

The next morning, when he should have been studying for an end of the week math test, Neil headed to the library instead. Andrew didn’t care for the library, so it seemed like the safest place to start googling his name. Neil did a double take when he noticed Aaron and Katelyn studying together at one of the tables, but Aaron’s flat glare was enough to keep him from investigating that relationship any closer. He did spare a moment to think that Aaron would benefit from modeling his glare after Andrew’s template; it would be more efficient.

Neil made himself comfortable at a computer in the corner of the room where he could keep track of everyone coming and going. Once he sat down, he pursed his lips together, trying to figure out the best tact to take. It wasn’t like he could just type in  _ Andrew Minyard and police officer from Oakland _ and be done with it.

He spent the next hour reading about the detention facility Andrew had spent time at in Oakland, which lead him to several articles about Officer Higgins working closely with the facility to ensure their recidivism rate was surprisingly low compared to other facilities in the nation. With a sigh, Neil clicked on the next article about Higgins, a straightforward and boring profile. Neil would have closed it and given up if he hadn’t noticed an almost throwaway line about Higgins taking special cases with foster children who’d had a history of abuse in their foster homes.

Neil tapped his chin as he considered the unpleasant idea that Higgins being involved meant Andrew had been subject to abuse during his time in foster care. Still, Neil knew firsthand that a biological family wasn’t a guarantee of anything better.

For a little while longer, Neil clicked around, trying to find a connection between Higgins and Andrew’s bad mood, and came up empty. When he left to get to his next class, he took the long way to avoid seeing Aaron and Katelyn together, but even from across the floor, he couldn’t help but notice that they’d put studying aside in favor of an admittedly benign make out session.

Out in the sunshine of the bright midmorning, Neil had a passing thought, wondering if Katelyn was Aaron’s soulmate. Neil hadn’t kissed anyone since he was fourteen, and his mom had slapped his face hard enough to leave a handprint for two days. He choked on the idea that kissing his soulmate would mean kissing Andrew. 

“What’s going on with you and Higgins?” Neil asked at morning weight training the next day. He stood behind the rack, spotting Andrew's bench press. Somehow, Andrew managed to bench nearly twice as much as Neil could, which was honestly pretty impressive. 

Neil could run faster though.

Andrew grunted at the top of his lift and didn’t say anything until he was sitting up on the bench after his set. “None of your business.”

Neil ticked off the reasons why it was his business on his fingers. “You’re acting out more during practice. You’re distracted. You forgot to insult me earlier when I said something stupid to Allison.”

“Perhaps your words were so inane that it was best to pretend you hadn’t said anything,” Andrew said, unperturbed by Neil’s accusations. He kept an even gaze on Neil’s face. “Dan would say I’m acting out the normal amount.”

“She just expects it.” Neil shrugged. “But you usually go about fifty-fifty and now it’s a lot closer to ‘all the goddamn time.’”

“There’s nothing worth uncovering, Neil,” Andrew said. “Put away your junior detective badge, hang up your plastic magnifying glass, pack up your bulletin board and red thread and stop trying to look into things that don’t need your attention.” 

"We play the Ravens on Halloween. Everyone needs to be playing their best, and we can’t practice at our best with you acting out."

"As always, it comes back to Exy. What was that, about sixty seconds you went without stickball on your mind?"

"It's not just about Exy," Neil said, watching to see if any of the Foxes were heading to the bench press next. They all seemed occupied with their current stations. "I mean, yes, we need you in our goal. But I’m talking about beyond that. What if you let someone in? What if you watch my back and let me watch yours?”

Andrew put a finger up to Neil’s lips, and shook his head. “Shhh,” he said, not moving his finger. “Some things don’t need to be said, Neil.”

Neil raised a hand to bat away Andrew’s, and Andrew caught his wrist in his other hand.

“Shhhh,” he repeated, staring Neil down with a deep blackness to his gaze. “Whatever you’re going to say isn’t worth it.” He dropped Neil’s hands and stood abruptly, turning his back to Neil and heading to the next station.

Neil was shocked to see Andrew show up to the next week of practices without fooling around. He wasn’t  _ trying _ , but he wasn’t purposely antagonizing anyone either, to the point that Dan pulled Neil aside after practice on Thursday.

“What did you do to make him behave?” she asked, a curious accusation in her words.

Neil had no clue. “I guess I asked him,” he said, and followed Dan’s gaze towards Andrew, who was half heartedly defending the goal against Kevin.

“You asked,” she repeated, an odd look on her face. A moment later, she was smiling and patting Neil on the shoulder. “Well, it worked, and the team is thankful for you.”

Neil scoffed. No one was thankful for him. But even so, a little warm flame of happiness lit in his chest, and he held onto it, right up until their game with the Ravens.

It was raining the day they played the Ravens, but it didn’t stop everyone from turning out to watch the game. Bright orange umbrellas dominated the stands, but the Raven’s section was a solid, black wall of black rain gear and umbrellas, like they’d come to a funeral instead of an Exy game. 

As Neil stood in position on the court listening to the countdown, it felt a lot like a funeral.

The Ravens played like a professional Exy team, but the Foxes played like they couldn’t afford to lose. The game got violent in the first thirty seconds, and within a minute later, Riko had scored on Andrew.

All eyes were on Andrew; it was the fastest anyone had ever scored on his goal. Even Andrew turned to look at the goal as it faded from red back to colorless.

Neil chafed as he stood at the half court line, watching Nicky and Aaron flounder against the Raven strikers. Riko’s smirk shone even across the court, the twisted, satisfied gleam in his eye only growing when he outpaced Nicky again and flung an impossible shot on goal.

The goal lit up red again, and Riko stopped in front of Andrew, just two steps between them. Neil would have given anything to storm in between them, but after a few more seconds, the Raven’s dealer called for Riko, and Riko strode back to his starting position. Andrew’s expression was unreadable; Neil wasn’t sure if he appreciated the challenge or if he was pissed about the defensive line failing or if he still didn’t care.

Having watched the Raven’s previous games was the only reason Nicky and Aaron managed to anticipate half of their moves, and Andrew whipped out brilliant saves one after another. None of it was good enough; ten minutes later, Andrew missed another goal. Wymack sent Matt in for Nicky and the Foxes were able to rally off of his strong defense just enough to get the ball off their side of the court and onto the Ravens.

Neil’s heart pounded when he saw Andrew throw the ball across the court; he was already running before his backliner mark could catch him. Neil slammed the ball sideways in a perfect rebound, and Kevin whipped his racquet around to shoot and score in one fluid move.

The fans cheered and shouted, a giant roar so loud that Neil thought he might have gone deaf. Kevin’s tight smile was a brief, small purse of his lips, but they clacked racquets fiercely as they headed back to their spots for the next play. It wasn’t enough to keep the Ravens from scoring again before half time.

Just as the halftime buzzer rang, Jean crossed the court from where he'd been marking Kevin and addressed Neil in a quiet, tight voice. "Riko requires your audience. Meet him in five minutes unless you wish everyone here to learn that you're the son of the Butcher."

Neil flinched harder than he had from any body checks. The mention of his father had his blood roaring in his ears, and Jean was already leaving the court before Neil could move again. He stumbled over his feet before catching himself and making it to the locker room.

Inside, Nicky and Aaron looked like they were a moment away from collapsing. Matt was pacing the long wall across from the benches and Dan, Allison, and Renee were discussing second half strategies with grim expressions. It took a moment for Neil to find Kevin and Andrew in the corner. Kevin was saying something and Andrew crossed his arms without a word.

Neil motioned to Wymack and tried to keep his voice normal. "I'll be right back. I just need a quick breath of air."

Wymack nodded. "If you talk to the press out there, I'll bench you for the rest of the game."

Neil agreed wordlessly and pushed through the door of the lounge, heading down the hallway. He didn't know what to expect, but he wasn't surprised to see Jean waiting for him just out of view of the lounge and the outside. Jean inclined his head and Neil followed him around the back hallway until they were halfway to the away lockers. 

Jean kept watch around the corner, and Riko stepped forward, wearing his Exy armour like he deserved to be here. He studied Neil’s face in lieu of a greeting. Neil drew himself up as tall as he could, but the two inches Riko had on him seemed like a foot the way Riko stood.

The way Riko could reveal Neil’s terrible secret with one sentence and ruin everything in a moment.

“Playing your team is like stepping on insects,” Riko said. “You are a joke.”

“You really brought me here to insult me,” Neil said. “What, too afraid of what I’ll say back in public?”

Riko’s grin was terrible, and it didn’t hide the hungry gleam in his dark eyes. “You are worth less than the dirt under this stadium. It’s time you learned your place.”

“My place is right here in Foxhole Court. Yours is presumably in the trash can, but I don't know if we have a bin big enough for your ego."

Riko was not impressed. He leaned forward, closing the gap between them. "For once in your miserable life, try to listen. Your little boy toy's happiness is at stake."

Neil tilted his head, trying to figure out who Riko was talking about.

"Andrew," Riko said as though it pained him to spell it out. "He's about to be part of a very big trial."

"And?" Neil tried to sound like this wasn't news to him, but he knew it wasn't convincing.

"And if you don't come and join us for practice over winter break, I'll make sure they bench the current judge and select mine in his place.” Riko’s smile showed too many teeth. “I'll make sure Andrew's foster brother gets a clean slate to keep doing what he does best…"

Neil blanched, but schooled his face a second later. "And what, out of the goodness of your heart, you'll keep out of the trial if I join your practice for half a month?" There had to be a catch.

"Oh, maybe you do have a few brain cells floating around in there after all," Riko said, eyeing Neil like a hungry cat about to catch a mouse. "The only catch is that you have to submit to me the whole time. One wrong move, and I'll make the call."

Neil swallowed back his fear, straightened his shoulders, and nodded. "I'll do it."

"Two minutes," Jean called.

"You'll receive your flight information in the mail," Riko said. "I'd assume this goes without saying, but since you're about as intelligent as a goldfish, I'll spell it out for you. If you speak one word of where you're going over break, the deal is off."

The deal. Neil's heart beat loud enough that he was sure Riko could hear it. "Not a word. Don't worry. Unlike you, I don't have temper tantrums if the entire world doesn't revolve around me."

"You'll live to regret your worthless tongue," Riko promised, closing the last two inches of space between them, and shoving Neil into the concrete wall.

Neil grunted. Riko had already turned to leave, but Neil couldn’t stop himself from calling out, “Happy Halloween, fucker. I hope you choke on your candy.”

He made it back to the locker room in time to avoid Wymack’s questions, and strode back onto the court like he had everything to play for. The Foxes couldn’t keep up against a fresh line-up of Ravens, but they held on for what they were worth, and walked off the court with their heads held high. Neil was stunned to see the final score of 13-5. The Ravens had shot on goal over a hundred times, and somehow Andrew had only given up thirteen points.

Neil understood, clear than ever, why Kevin was holding out for Andrew to start really trying.

The next time Neil was spotting Andrew’s bench, he waited until Andrew had finished his set before asking about the trial.

“I thought we agreed you were hanging up your ‘my first detective’ kit,” Andrew said, his cheeks red from lifting. 

“I never agreed to that,” Neil replied. “I said that you should let me have your back. And then you shushed me for no good reason, well, except for the self-destructive streak you have that’s about a mile wide.”

Andrew slanted an unimpressed look Neil’s way and laid back down on the bench for his last set. Neil watched the bar. He wondered if that was the end of their conversation, but when Andrew was done, he said, “The trial takes place during winter break. Higgins thought he was doing a favor letting me finish out my classes for the semester.”

“I’m glad we’ll have you for the rest of our games,” Neil said, almost automatically.

“Junkie.” Andrew paused, and captured Neil’s chin with one of his hands, studying Neil’s eyes. “You’re not going to lament my loss of Christmas?”

Neil stared back, unsure what Andrew was looking for. Did Andrew suspect Neil had plans with the Ravens? “It’s just another day.”

“Spoken like a true runaway,” Andrew said, and went to the next station.

Despite the nerves and worry and everything else, or perhaps because of it, November passed into December without fanfare. 

“California,” Neil said, standing in Andrew’s room on the first day of winter break. “Not the best place to spend Christmas, if you ask me.”

“If I never saw it again, it’d be too soon,” Andrew agreed with an indifferent shrug. “Did the team elect you to be my going away party? That’s kinder of them than I’d expect. I would have thought they’d add insult to injury and send Kevin.”

“I didn’t tell anyone why you were going,” Neil said. He thought about the plane tickets back in his own room, the tickets Riko had sent, and the reason why he was going to spend Christmas at the Nest. “They’re not stupid though. The trial is all over the news now. They know that Higgins came to see you. They’re going to put it together.”

Andrew stared out the window, reminding Neil of the time he’d come into the room at the beginning of the semester to see a fist sized hole in the window. The new window Matt had installed was still in one piece. “I don’t know, Neil. It sounds suspiciously close to a chance for you to leave again. Should I be starting a pot on whether we’ll see you for the start of the next semester?”

“Should we start one for if you come back?” Neil said, but it was a cheap shot. Andrew would testify against his former foster brother and come back to campus. Just like how Neil would go to Castle Evermore to ensure that the trial remained fair and come back.

“Well, it is what it is,” Andrew said after a long moment. When he caught Neil’s gaze, Neil was startled how intense Andrew’s eyes were. “Here’s the truth I want for the drive. Your name.” He picked up his suitcase, and started out of the room, not looking back to see if Neil followed

A few minutes later, the two of them were in Andrew’s car, Andrew tapped the steering wheel with one hand as he steered down the interstate.

Neil thought again about telling Andrew about the deal he’d made with Riko instead, but he held his tongue. It was too risky a truth; even now, Andrew might skip the trial if he knew where Neil was going over Christmas. 

“My name,” Neil began, and faltered instantly. In his head, it had seemed easy enough, but as he tried to put the name out in the open between them, it became impossible.

“Oh, this will be good,” Andrew said. “Did you parents saddle you with something unfortunate? I can only imagine the tales you have to tell. Perhaps you were a Sadeas? A Sauron?”

Neil shook his head. “Abram,” he whispered, just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the road. “My middle name.”

“A strong name,” Andrew said. “I’m not sure I buy you as an Abram.”

Hearing the name from Andrew was no easier than saying it. “I’ve heard worse,” Neil muttered. “Like my father’s name.”

Andrew waited, shifting into the left lane and passing a line of trucks. 

Neil shook his head. “That one is too big for this round,” he said. It would fill the space of the small car and twist out into the open like a gaping wound and fester between them. “Maybe for the New Years.” He shook his head again. Even that was too soon. “Maybe if we win finals.”

“Oh,” Andrew said. “You’re trying to motivate me, dangle a carrot in front of me, keep me playing. Right out of Kevin’s playbook. Maybe you can learn.”

“Maybe,” Neil agreed, studying Andrew’s profile. “I guess you won’t know until we win.”

“Sometimes, I think I hate you,” Andrew said, and then fell into a silence. He turned up the radio, letting whatever was on the rock station fill the space between them. A minute outside of the airport, Andrew spoke again. “Are you saving your turn for the New Year too?”

Neil thought about it for a moment. “Yeah,” he said, more sure of himself than he’d been in days. “That way you know I’ll be here when you come back.”

Andrew didn’t reply; he just parked the car in the first space he found, and had a cigarette lit by the time he was halfway out of the seat. He got his suitcase out of the trunk while Neil got out of the passenger seat.

“Well, do keep Kevin alive for me in my absence,” Andrew said in lieu of a goodbye, and started across the parking lot to departures. 

Neil watched him go, wondering why he felt like he should call Andrew back. Was that what other soulmates would do? Would someone else have spat in Riko’s face and gone with Andrew as moral support? The urge to call him back was almost overwhelming, and Neil walked around the car step by slow step to try to ease it. He slid into the driver’s seat. It smelled like cigarette smoke and Andrew, and the urge to get out and find him before he boarded his flight remained. 

It wouldn’t do him any good if Riko used his influence to bench the current judge for the case and put his own judge in. Neil had to let Andrew go. He had to go to Evermore. He just wished it didn’t feel like a dark cloud descending over him.

He stayed in the parking lot for the next hour, watching planes take off. He wasn’t sure which plane Andrew was on, but it was soothing to watch each plane take off and head into the sky. He imagined Andrew glaring at whoever sat next to him and it made him smile.

The smile didn’t last when Neil was back at the airport the next day, lying to his teammates about going home to see his uncle. But it was for a good cause, and he refused to consider a timeline where he picked partying with his teammates in New York over keeping the integrity of the trial intact. He could play Exy with the Ravens for two weeks for Andrew, he told himself.

Arriving at the Nest was a different story. Neil had heard rumors that only soulmates were able to even join the team. This had been corroborated by multiple sources. So it was interesting to be lead underground into something close to a colorless dungeon. Black spread across the walls, the floors, even the ceiling. Furniture was black. Black was the color of choice for clothes, for dishes, for towels. The occasional splash of red decorated the walls here and there and showed up in the smallest details on some of the Raven’s outfits, but it was never more than a finger's breadth of red.

Neil didn’t like the fact that if Andrew did somehow get in trouble, Neil would never notice the color seeping out of his world until he left the Nest.

Then Jean delivered him to Riko, and Neil’s world quickly narrowed down to surviving the two weeks intact. He didn’t intend to give Riko the satisfaction of screaming, but once he started, he wasn’t sure when he stopped.


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil returns after his stint at Castle Evermore and Andrew takes care of him. Later, on that fateful night in Colombia...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I am so happy to share this chapter with you guys. Basically I took the question, what if Andrew wasn't gone when Neil got back from the Nest and followed through to this beautiful chapter of Andrew taking care of Neil. T_T Angst still abounds, of course, but we're getting closer and closer to the big pay off :3
> 
> 8 and 9 should post next week!

# 7

When Neil opened his eyes, he was in the airport. Funny how the airport was so light and airy, and, more importantly, not bereft of light. Color was everywhere. People wore red and green, they wore blue. They had pants in brown. Gray. Green. Pink. Someone had leggings with rainbows on them. It all blurred together in a sickly fog, like someone had rubbed day old cotton candy over Neil’s eyes. 

His face hurt.

His ribs hurt. He was pretty sure every bandage he was wearing must be soaked through with blood, but a hand pressed against his side came away clean. Interesting.

Neil sat there for a long minute, opening and closing his eyes and just watching people pass by. No one seemed inclined to help him. He needed to find Jean, to find Jean. Jean would…

Jean wouldn’t help him. His brain moved onto the next name he could remember. He needed to find Andrew.

Neil dug in his bag, coming up with his cell phone, long dead. The charger had to be somewhere nearby, and the cord tangled around his fingers as he dug deeper. He plugged his phone in and stared out at the sea of people. They came in swells and waves as one plane landed and another boarded, and Neil forgot if he was supposed to be awake or asleep.

He looked out the window. It was light. But was the sun setting or coming up? His phone turned on, and message icons lined up on the screen. There were too many to process.

Neil closed his eyes. It was probably time to sleep. 

"Neil?"

Neil grunted. He should have known Riko would wait until he closed his eyes, he just needed five minutes of unbroken sleep, he just-

"Neil."

The voice didn't get any louder, but Neil thought he recognized the way it wrapped around his name. It wasn't Riko. Riko was back at Castle Evermore. Neil looked in confusion at his phone, which was open and on his shoulder. Somehow he’d dialed a number.

He'd dialed Andrew's number. Neil tried to remember how to make a sound that wasn’t a scream, but his voice was still nowhere to be found. He remembered to breathe, but barely.

“Where are you, Neil?” Andrew asked.

Neil looked around. He was in the airport. He just needed a little bit of sleep. He stared out the window, looking for a clue that it was dusk or dawn.

"Your location, Neil." Andrew sounded like he was a thousand miles away. He was. He was in California, testifying against his foster brother.

"The airport," Neil muttered. His voice betrayed him, hoarse and full of rust, like glass had been ground in the back of his throat. 

There was a short pause, and then, "I'm calling Coach to get you. Go wait for him."

Neil nodded, half aware that Andrew couldn't see but unable to form another word. He didn't say anything, but he heard Andrew calling out on another phone and asking Wymack to pick Neil up. Andrew didn't hang up with Neil until Wymack showed up. 

"What the actual hell, Neil?" Wymack said as he came around the car. When Neil looked up, Wymack's eyebrows narrowed. He grabbed Neil's bag and tossed it in the trunk, and nearly tossed Neil in the car too, trying to help him into his seat.

The drive back to his apartment was an indeterminate amount of time. Neil drifted in and out of sleep.

When they'd gotten inside and Wymack had given Neil water, he crossed his arms and looked at Neil head to toe, cataloging the visible injuries. 

"Andrew said you got yourself in trouble. He didn't tell me I was picking up your alternative color version, like you're some sort of video game character."

Neil tilted his head at his comment, touching his hair tentatively as though he could expect to feel it gone. He bit his lip as memories from the last two weeks flitted by in starts and stops. 

The memory of the smell of hair dye jumped out at him and Neil looked up at Wymack, unable to keep the horror out of his eyes. He stumbled to the bathroom, flicking on the light just in time to be greeted by a face he didn't want to see.

Auburn hair and chilly blue eyes looked back at him, and Neil knew without a doubt that he was looking at his father's face. He retched, but nothing came up, and he dropped to the ground, trying to find a place to hide. 

"Neil, I don't even know where to start…" Wymack began, but Neil was too huddled against the cabinet to respond.

He had blue eyes. His eyes were blue. Andrew had looked into those eyes, had seen his father's eyes, Andrew had to know who he was because everyone always told Neil he had his father's eyes…

Riko had forced his hand, had forced Neil to finally, after almost a decade, look like _Nathaniel_ again. The last time he'd been Nathaniel, he hadn't been able to see the auburn of his hair or the blue of his eyes, but now he could see them, and now he knew exactly what his father’s face looked like in color and his father was going to find him and kill him and- 

"Neil," Wymack said, his voice miles away and right in his ear all at once.

His father's associates would find him. There was no hiding now. Neil wasn't sure if he was warm or freezing, but he tried to squeeze back further against the wall, as if it could swallow him up and he could leave this nightmare.

"You're bleeding," Wymack said, quieter. "Let me clean your face."

Neil kept his face tucked down as if that could protect him. "You see color?" Neil asked, stupidly late.

Wymack just nodded. He had a warm washcloth in hand and he pressed it against Neil's face. Neil held back a wince. The bandage nearest his eye began to peel off.

That's when Wymack let out a sharp breath and Neil touched his face, concerned by his reaction.

"What the fuck," Wymack ground out, and Neil gathered up just enough strength to stand up and peer into the mirror again, avoiding his blue eyes.

The number 4 adorned his cheek in black ink, permanently etched into his bruised skin. Neil’s shout of outrage was strangled, his voice still too rough from the last two weeks. He tore at his cheek, fingernails digging at the ink until Wymack grabbed his wrist and forcefully held him.

Neil cringed. It was the last bit of energy he had. All the fight left him as he collapsed into Wymack’s grip. Somehow, Wymack gathered him up and brought him back to the living room, depositing him on the couch and sitting next to him in miserable, choking silence.

“Neil,” Wymack began, and stopped. Neil couldn’t blame him. There was no question he could ask that would get a satisfactory answer.

Neil tilted his head up just enough to take in Wymack’s face. He’d called him Neil. Despite everything, he had called him Neil. The significance of it rested heavily on his shoulders, and Neil closed his eyes. He drifted in and out of sleep until suddenly the sound of the door being thrown open shocked him awake.

The next thing he knew, Andrew was staring at him, his expression as blank and unreadable as ever. Something like relief flooded through Neil, though it could have been another wave of exhaustion. Andrew’s solid presence made it easier to relax despite the pain.

“He hasn’t said a word,” Wymack was saying to Andrew.

Andrew didn’t say anything. He studied Neil’s face like he could read his answer in the bruises and the ink that stained Neil’s cheek. Neil’s eyes were too heavy to keep open, so he committed the image of Andrew’s face to his mind and closed his eyes. 

“I’ll take him,” Andrew announced after an extended period of time. 

Neil cracked open his eyes again. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, and he didn’t want to alarm anyone by asking. 

“I don’t know if he’s in the best shape to transport anywhere,” Wymack said.

Andrew stared him down until Wymack gave up and went out of the living room. He returned a few minutes later with a box of medical supplies. Andrew gave the supplies a once over and nodded. His next words were directed to Neil. “Get up.”

Neil’s body tried to obey, his legs swinging off of the couch. Exhaustion won over determination, and he tumbled in a heap onto the floor. Wymack swore behind him, and Neil tried to wave it off.

“I’m fine,” he ground out in his broken voice.

Andrew sighed, a barely audible huff. He reached out, shoved steady hands under Neil’s arms, lifted him up, and began half carrying him out of the room. Neil held on and tried to remember to thank Wymack for the ride from the airport. 

The next thing he knew, he was in Andrew’s car. 

“I don’t want to bleed on your seats,” Neil mumbled.

“Should have considered that before you went and got yourself sliced up like a discount ham,” Andrew replied. He turned up the music as they drove, only turning it off when they ended up at the dorms. 

Most of the students were still out on winter break. Andrew hauled Neil up the stairs and into his room. He deposited Neil on the couch and headed to the window. 

“You tell me you don’t want to die,” Andrew said, lighting a cigarette. He opened the window, and a cold draft from outside wafted through. “I’m waiting for you to prove to me you weren’t lying about that. You went to Castle Evermore.” It wasn’t a question; it was an accusation.

Neil wanted to shrug, but that wasn’t quite possible. “I don’t,” he said. “I’m not trying to die. I was trying to keep Riko out of the trial.”

“I don’t need you messing in my life,” Andrew replied, evenly. “Unlike the way you’re unable to take care of yourself, I can handle my business.”

It didn’t bother Neil that Andrew didn’t say thank you; he didn’t expect or even want it. All he needed was to see the outcome of the trial and to know that it was over. 

“I saw a chance to help a teammate, to help you, and I took it,” Neil said, his voice dangerously close to giving out. “Accept that sometimes someone might want to do something for you instead of forcing you to look out for everyone.”

Andrew didn’t say anything for a long time. Neil tried to read something in the slant of his shoulders or the heat of his cigarette, but there was nothing to read, no lines to peer between.

He turned towards Neil, looking at the 4 on Neil’s cheek again. Now that he’d seen it in the mirror, it seemed like his cheek was burning in the shape of the number.

“I hate you,” Andrew said.

Neil nodded; he knew. Even so, the silence between them wasn’t unbearable as Andrew finished his cigarette and stared out of the window. Neil began to drift off again, unable to keep his eyes open for long. His body, too used to the constant interruptions of pain, didn’t let him stay asleep for more than a few minutes at a time. 

Every time he opened his eyes, Andrew was still there, smoking out the window. One time, when Neil opened his eyes, Andrew had turned on the TV. There was a countdown, quiet in the background, and only after it hit zero did Neil realize that they had welcomed the new year together. 

He closed his eyes again, and when he opened them again, Andrew was still at the window, his head framed by the purple-blue bands of the rising sun. Neil opened his mouth to say something, but his voice caught in his throat, and his eyes were too heavy.

The next time Neil woke up, the sun was brilliant outside, and Neil didn’t see Andrew. He was stiff and sore, but the most rested he’d felt in days. His throat was dry, and he saw a cup of water on the table by the couch. He tried to sit up, winced, settled for a half-slant against the back cushion, and drank the water in several painful gulps.

He was just about to try to get up and look for Andrew when the door to the dorm opened, and Andrew came in. He was expressionless, and he set the box of medical supplies Wymack had given them on the table with an unceremonious thunk. In silence, he unpacked gauze, tape, and what looked like antibacterial cream.

“Shirt,” Andrew commanded. 

Neil tried to lift his shift, but he couldn’t raise his arms up all the way without the stitches on his chest pulling. Pain bloomed across his abdomen. He choked back a cry and stopped, his shirt half over his head.

Andrew reached over and pulled the offending garment off. He worked on the bandages in silence, starting on Neil’s right arm, working his way over to his chest and back, and finishing on his left arm. Neil couldn’t think of anything to say, so he stayed silent too. Another day out meant his wounds were a bit easier to look at, and Neil was fascinated by the wide variety of colors a bruise could be; fading yellow, deep purple, a sickly green, dusty red. All splashed over his canvas of scars.

“Sometimes I think you are in a competition with yourself to see how stupid you can be before it kills you,” Andrew said as he put the last bandage in place. 

Neil didn’t ask him how he was so comfortable around his wounds. 

“I think your learning curve is a horizontal line,” Andrew continued.

An attempt at a shrug left Neil cursing as his freshly cleaned stitched wounds pulled. Andrew made a face as if to say “I told you so.” There was something else in Andrew’s eyes, something that Neil tried to follow. It was in the sparkling hazel, behind the intensity of his gaze, so close that Neil thought if he could only reach out and grab it, he’d be able to solve his problem-not-problem that was his soulmate Andrew Minyard. 

Andrew cleaned up the rest of the supplies, putting the extras back in the box for later and throwing out the numerous wrappers and old bandages. He disappeared into the kitchen, coming out a moment later with a bowl and a spoon, which he shoved over towards Neil.

“Do you think you can eat applesauce or is that going to be too much for your approximation of a body?”

Neil held the spoon loosely in his aching fingers and ate the applesauce.

The next few days passed in a blur of catching up on sleep and Andrew. By the third day, Neil felt good enough to hate being trapped in the four walls of the dorm.

“I want to go for a run,” he said. Which, in retrospect, was not his smartest sentence.

Andrew slanted an entirely unimpressed look at him. 

“How about a walk?” Neil wheedled. “Part of healing is getting the body moving.”

“You have been moving,” Andrew said, not taking his eyes off of the movie he’d put on the TV. “You’ve walked down the hallway six hundred times since yesterday.”

“I’m doing much better now. Time for a run. Walk.” He corrected himself before Andrew could turn towards him again.

“I’m not your keeper,” Andrew replied.

Neil headed to the bedroom to get a sweatshirt. He was pleased to see he could put it on himself as long as he was patient enough to wiggle his arm through first. Then it was just a little twist to grab the other side, and for the first time in too long, he dressed himself with no outside help.

For a moment, his mind went back to Jean “helping” force his red and black Wesninski jersey on and off, and he couldn’t catch his breath. He pressed against the bedroom wall for support. Andrew didn’t seem to notice his long disappearance, and Neil stood there, barely breathing. 

Slowly, the oppressive weight of the Nest retreated from Neil’s chest again, and he made his way down the hallway. He wasn’t sure if Andrew was going to come with him or not, so he bided his time getting his shoes on, and told himself it wasn’t because it was still painful to curl up enough to reach his shoelaces.

Andrew didn’t move from the couch, so Neil headed out on his own. His stitches were already on fire by the time he got down the stairs, but he wasn’t about to turn around and give Andrew the satisfaction of slinking back less than five minutes after he left. 

It was hard to stick to a walking pace when Neil’s legs were dying for movement, but Neil forced himself to an easy amble as he looped the perimeter drive. The sun above was warm on his sweatshirt, but the air was still cold. By the time he got back, Neil’s hands were almost numb. Thankfully, his stitches were too.

Andrew’s movie had finished, and he wasn’t in the dorm room anymore, but Neil didn’t mind. He let himself inside the living room, made it to the couch, and fell asleep with his shoes still on.

By the time the rest of the Foxes had returned from their vacation, Wymack told Neil he’d texted them to let them know he’d had an abrupt change of style. Neil hadn’t been for the idea, but when his teammates got to the dorm, he was 100% more appreciative that he didn’t have to break the news himself.

He survived Dan’s outrage and Renee's soft acceptance and Allison’s tight stare, Aaron’s indifference and Matt and Nicky’s upset. He even survived Kevin, whose first words were, “When can you get back on the court?”

He had a hard time surviving Andrew, who seemed to disappear as soon as the rest of the Foxes were back. It wasn’t that he expected Andrew to stick around to keep taking care of him now that he was doing better and there were others to pick up the slack, but maybe there was some small part of him that had thought they were friends.

Neil shook his head, and shoved that thought down until it was gone.

He was back on the court for practice the next week, and that Friday, Andrew’s group headed back to Colombia. Andrew cornered Neil in his dorm room before they left and handed him a bag of clothing like nothing had changed since the last time they went, never mind that Neil still couldn’t look in the mirror without flinching. 

Neil didn’t have any problems shrugging out of his loose t-shirt, but trying to pull on the tighter, jewel green club shirt was beyond his abilities. Andrew let Neil struggle for a minute before motioning him to come over. Silently, Andrew pulled the shirt over Neil’s head and helped pull the sleeves in place. Andrew smoothed the shirt over Neil’s abdomen, making sure none of the stitches showed.

Eden’s Twilight was just as packed as ever, and Neil volunteered to pick up drinks at the bar for the group while Andrew parked the car and Nicky, Kevin, and Aaron searched for a table. 

Roland made it over by Neil after a few minutes, and got to mixing up the usual. 

“Good to see you guys back here again. I saw the outcome of the case on the news this morning.” He filled two shot glasses and pushed one to Neil. “Feels like the kind of thing you can celebrate, yeah?”

Between practice, classes, more practice, and changing the bandages on his body, Neil _hadn’t_ seen the verdict. He met Roland’s eyes with a fierce sort of satisfaction. “I couldn’t have imagined it turning out any other way.”

Roland nodded. He nudged the shot glass towards Neil. “A toast, to Andrew hopefully being able to put this behind him for good.”

Neil considered accepting the shot. He reached out to grab it, his sleeve sliding up his arm as he did.

“Oh,” Roland said. “Well I’m glad Andrew finally went for it with you, but damn, he really didn’t go easy on you, did he?”

“What?” Neil asked, following Roland’s gaze. He expected it to be on his face, but Roland was looking at his wrists. 

Roland laughed, before frowning. “You know, it makes sense. He figured you’d have a hard time following his rules.” Before Neil could say another word, he added, “You probably should suggest padded cuffs for next time, though.”

“What rules?” Neil stared at Roland. “Why would Andrew do that to me? I got these bruises in a fight.”

Roland’s laughter cut off immediately. “You don’t know.” He scanned the crowd, like he was looking for something, and backed up. “Ok, so. Let’s just pretend that conversation didn’t happen. Here are the drinks. Enjoy.”

And then he was moving on to the next customer, and Neil was left tilting his head in confusion. A moment later, Andrew was at his back, putting a hand on his shoulder to slip into the space between Neil and the bar. He saw the shot near Neil, grabbed it and downed it.

Neil followed Andrew with the tray of drinks, trying to figure out exactly what Roland was getting at by insinuating _Andrew_ would be the one putting him in cuffs. He racked his brain, trying to play back every conversation he’d had with Roland; there hadn’t been that many, and most of them revolved around Neil not drinking.

The curiosity didn’t abate as the night wore on and Neil watched Andrew nurse his drinks while Aaron, Nicky, and Kevin slammed down theirs. When the others hit the dance floor, Neil couldn’t keep silent a moment longer. 

“Why does Roland think you’re tying me down?” Neil asked, trying to read an answer in the way that Andrew stopped in the middle of his sip.

Andrew put his drink down, his expression just as calm and placid as ever. After a moment of considering his answer, Andrew settled on, “He expects you to be bad with directions, and rightfully so.”

Which, yes, technically answered the question, but not in any satisfying way. Neil shook his head.

Andrew had already picked up his drink and taken another sip by the time Neil had figured out how to reword the question. “Why would you be tying me down?”

The reply was almost automatic. “I don’t like being touched.”

Neil frowned. “When have I ever tried to touch you?”

Andrew was not about to take pity on Neil as he floundered just out of reach of the question that would get him the answer to explain all of this. He tried to think back to any time he’d touched Andrew; certainly Andrew would have just shoved him out of the way if they were fighting. He didn’t invite casual touch like Dan, Matt, and Nicky did. Which left _touching_ , but Neil furrowed his brow at the thought.

“I mean, you hate me.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact. 

Andrew shrugged. “Every inch of you,” he agreed. “That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t blow you.”

It took three tries for Neil to process the statement, and when it hit, it was like he’d been the one downing shots all evening. His vision swam and he closed his eyes tightly to put it back together. He met Andrew’s eyes. “You like me?” 

They were soulmates. Maybe it was bound to happen. Neil tried to piece the parts of the puzzle together: the key to the house, the way Andrew had let him drive his car, the way Andrew always found an excuse to touch him.

“I hate you,” Andrew reminded him.

“You were never going to say anything?” Neil asked, a little confused, a little hurt, but mostly curious. Even though they were soulmates, he’d never even really imagined trying to kiss Andrew. Now, he took a moment to imagine looking into the depths of Andrew’s hazel eyes and putting their lips together.

The thought took his breath away. 

“Why would I?” Andrew asked. “It’s not like being soulmates changes the fact that you’re a horrible idea.”

Neil nodded; Andrew wasn’t wrong. Neil couldn’t outrun his father forever, and Andrew wouldn’t want to protect him forever. They were so far away from the idea of “happily ever after” that it didn’t make sense to grasp for straws.

Andrew wasn’t wrong, but Neil tried to imagine Andrew kneeling between his legs, just to satisfy his curiosity. A twinge of interest peaked low in his groin, and he blinked, not sure how to process that. 

Kevin came back for another drink, disrupting any chance for more questions, and after a little while longer, Andrew got up with the empty cups and headed off. Neil and Kevin sat in silence, Kevin drinking and Neil watching the crowd pass by in flashes of taunting colors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, ok I admit I did not go for maximum angst. Unlike the books, Riko does not go back on his word, and Andrew gets to have a little tiny bit of peace.


	8. 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil struggles at night practice, Andrew brings Neil to the roof, and there might finally be some kissing. Andrew has one last warning for Neil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, this is not a drill, Andrew and Neil are about to share their first kiss! But of course nothing is that simple for these two, as you shall see.

#  8

Neil’s first time back at night practice was a new beast. Stadium lights kept the court as bright as day, but the stands around him spun out into darkness, and darkness was too much like the Nest, and then Neil was standing there in full gear and breathing through memories of being forced to play as a backliner. Overwhelming thoughts swarmed of Ravens swiping his legs out from under him with their racquets when he moved in the wrong direction, when he didn’t anticipate their plays, when he was already stumbling from a lack of sleep and knives to his back.

Andrew had disappeared into the blackness of the stands, but Kevin was on the court next to him. Neil braced himself for a lecture, for a reminder of the importance of their practices, but Kevin just met his gaze and waited for his breathing to even out.

“Those memories will always try to draw you under,” Kevin said after a minute. His tone wasn’t comforting, but it wasn’t razor sharp either. “You’re stronger than them, Neil. Prove it.”

Neil met Kevin’s gaze. In the calm, green depths of his eyes, he saw the recognition, the way Kevin shoved down the horror of what he’d no doubt seen during his lengthy time at Evermore. Neil studied his racquet, realizing that Kevin had never truly escaped the sixteen hour days of Evermore; his nighttime practices started at the same hour theirs did.

The weight that Kevin was holding on to must be crushing, yet day in and out, he stood with a haughty expression, refusing to let it bring him down. Neil glanced at Kevin’s number two tattoo and wondered where exactly Kevin drew his strength from. Kevin was too scared to take away the two, too smart to retreat back to the Nest.

"Now let's get started. We've already wasted a week."

That was the Kevin Neil knew and tolerated, and he pushed away the crawling claws of the Nest and threw himself into practice.

Every part of his body ached as Andrew drove them back to the dorms. His arms were sore from the racquet, his legs like iron weights. His chest pulled when he took a deep breath. But he was alive, Andrew was here, and they had survived. They would keep surviving.

Neil grimaced at the thought. Kevin and Andrew would survive. He wasn't afforded the same luxury. He wanted to kick at the glove box in front of him as if he could work out the frustration of a death sentence on a piece of unsuspecting leather. 

How could he escape Riko's grasp, how could he have avoided signing the Raven's contract, only for his life to end in a handful of months just the same? The majority of him was satisfied that he had kept the trial clean for Andrew, but that small, selfish part--the one that had made him stay here so he could play Exy at any cost--was discontent. He'd brushed against the grim reaper's scythe and came away to tell the tale, only to see it raised again in the distance.

"Are you planning on sleeping in the car?" Andrew's voice cut through Neil's thoughts, dragging him forcefully back to Fox Tower. Neil's chest was heavy, like he'd been running for miles, even though he'd been sitting in the car for the last five minutes.

He got out. Kevin was long gone ahead of them. Neil trudged behind Andrew, ready to claim a few hours of sleep before the sun rose to herald the new day.

But Andrew didn't stop on the third floor of the stairwell, he just kept going up, with a single glance back at Neil to see if he was following.

Neil followed. 

Andrew brought them to the top floor of the tower, and, ignoring the "no access" sign next to a door, fiddled the lock until it came loose and swung open with a single creak. A rush of cold air coming down the metal stairs let Neil know they were heading up to the roof.

By the time Neil made it up the final stair, Andrew had already sat down at the edge of the roof, a cigarette lit as he stared out into the distance. Neil wasn't sure where he was supposed to sit, so he picked a spot nearish to Andrew and considered the campus. From their new vantage point, the always on lights for the parking lot of Foxhole Court shined in the distance. It put him at a certain kind of ease, somehow, knowing that the structure was so big that it could be seen from far away.

"You're restless," Andrew noted. He smoked his cigarette like he meant to be here awhile, like he wasn't in any hurry. "Looking for exits, eyeing your escapes. Wondering if you’d survive jumping from this height."

Neil shook his head, though he didn’t outright deny Andrew’s accusation. "How does Kevin keep a clear head after it all?" he wondered aloud, unsure if he was expecting an answer from Andrew or if he was just voicing a thought that seemed safe in this hidden space around them.

"You might have noticed him drinking once or twice," Andrew said, his cigarette burning to the filter. He stubbed it out, but didn't light another one.

"I figured Ravens graduate with one professional contract to an Exy team and one for a shrink," Neil said. "But Kevin left early, so now he's got to make do."

"I hear enough about Kevin the other twenty three hours of the day," Andrew said. "Talk to me about something else."

Neil fell into a thoughtful silence. The displeasure of knowing he'd be dead in a few months threatened to scream its way out of his throat, but he pushed it back and focused on the chill in the air, bringing up a different, less painful memory. 

"I celebrated Christmas one year sleeping under a pine tree. It was cold, and I couldn't find a car to sleep in. I don't know if you've ever read The Boxcar Children, but a bed of pine needles is actually not a pleasant way to sleep." Neil trailed off, thinking. 

That had been a cold, miserable night, but he’d had to leave the safe house with his mother unexpectedly and they needed to catch a few hours of sleep before running farther, trying to throw their father’s associates off of their trail. When the snow has piled up around the branches and with his mother's weight pushed against him, he'd been just warm enough to drift off for a few hours. 

The cold around him now was different, less ominous. And being near Andrew seemed to block it out.

"One of my foster mothers thought it was hilarious to give me ‘my own space’ in the form of a tent in the backyard in the middle of February," Andrew offered in the silence Neil had left. "I spent a peaceful week out there until a neighbor saw and called CPS. I was in a new house the next week."

Neil was too tired to notice that Andrew didn't say better, just new. He nodded, his eyes starting to betray him and drift closed, as though they were camping out together under the stars.

Andrew glanced at Neil, looking for all the world like he was going to whisper another truth under the star dappled glow of their quiet reality together. He didn't though. He just stood and waited for Neil to get up and make his way to the stairs. He shut the door carefully behind them.

"Enjoy your bed," he said as he headed back to his dorm.

"Same," Neil said. He wondered how cold it got in California in the winter where Andrew had been.

He snuck into his room and bed without waking Matt, sparing half a thought to appreciate that he didn't have contacts to take out, and that he could fall asleep a whole two seconds earlier for it.

After that, Andrew and Neil went up to the roof some days after night practices, and enjoyed a secret solitude. More often than not, Andrew smoked a cigarette in silence and Neil was content to watch. He appreciated the lack of pressure to make conversation and the way he could just look up at the stars if he wanted to leave his thoughts behind for a few minutes.

The roof was a place where his past didn't seem to matter, where for the length of one burning cigarette, Neil could almost forget the finality of his future.

~

In retrospect, calling Riko out during the Longhorn’s aftergame interview was probably not Neil’s smartest moment, but the way the reporters had shoved a microphone in his face and dared him to comment could have only ended one way. Neil ignored the strangled noises Kevin made behind him, traded high fives with Dan and Matt, and turned, finding himself face to face with Andrew.

“You left Kevin hanging,” Andrew noted.

It was like a dam broke somewhere in his chest, like Andrew had given him permission to give voice to the glut of feelings that wanted to pour out. It wasn’t fair that Kevin had a future. It wasn’t fair that everyone in the room would be back on the court a year from now and he’d be dead. Neil bounded across the room, slamming into Kevin hard enough to have them both stumbling into the wall.

“Whoa!” Matt called, getting ready to step in between Andrew and Neil.

Andrew didn’t take a step towards Neil.

When they touched ground back in South Carolina, Neil wasn’t surprised to see Andrew bypassing the baggage claim to head outside for a cigarette. He followed, the embers of his anger at Kevin keeping him from hanging out with the rest of the group.

By the time Neil got outside, Andrew had already lit two cigarettes. He handed one to Neil. Neil took it between his fingers, and watched the bright red end of Andrew’s as he took a drag. Neil’s cigarette sat between his fingers, wafting smoke and memories.

“You’ve got a hell of a deathwish,” Andrew said after a minute. 

“Yeah, well,” Neil said, watching the smoke from their cigarettes entwine in the cold air of the late night, floating up into the sky until it was indistinguishable from the clouds rolling in over the sliver of moon. “I guess I’m just curious to see how big of a threat you can protect me from.”

He let his cigarette burn out before crushing it under his heel and going back in to grab their bags. 

Andrew had told Neil he was afraid of heights. So when they ended up on top of the roof again, after everyone’s cars had been destroyed by overzealous Ravens fans, after Neil had been forced to give up his real birthday to the team, after Andrew had gotten a new car that was worth twice as much as half the houses Neil had hidden in, Neil shouldn’t have been surprised that Andrew sat so close to the edge.

_ “What are you doing on the roof if you’re afraid of heights?” _

_ A hand pressed to his chest. A racing heartbeat. “Feeling.” _

“What are you feeling now?” Neil asked. He waited a beat and when Andrew didn't answer, added, "You know, it's funny. I remember hearing a story where soulmates could tell what the other was feeling. I'd imagine that would be exhausting after a few minutes with you."

Andrew didn't say anything.

Neil was content to enjoy the lull in their not-conversation when Andrew broke the silence. "On the second to last day of December,” he said, his cigarette between his fingers, “I was sitting in the courtroom. They'd already spent hours trying to tear apart every word I said."

Neil pictured the lawyer trying to come at Andrew from every angle and finding himself at a dead end every time. 

"Another hour into cross examination and I realized that the colors in the room had begun to fade." Andrew said this in the same tone he would comment on the weather.

Neil blinked, suddenly slammed with remembrance. His last day at Castle Evermore. Riko's grand finale as it were. Funny, he  _ had _ thought he was dying several times that day. 

And worse, Andrew had known in real time that he was failing his promise to protect Neil. He had been stuck in the courtroom thousands of miles away with tangible, irrefutable proof, as the color in the room had started to bleed back into black and white. 

"I'm fine, though," Neil offered, even though he hadn’t been and he wasn't now. His cheeks burned, but not enough to retract the lie.

Andrew took another drag of his cigarette. "I'd say I appreciated the challenge, but…" He looked out at campus, like he was considering something. He tugged out his key ring, and, cigarette perched between his lips, fiddled with it until the second key to the Maserati came loose.

He handed it to Neil, who stared like it was a snake. Andrew dropped it between them. The key made a single, tiny clink as it hit the ground.

“Too many issues, Neil,” Andrew said. “It’s just a key.”

Neil picked up the key from the rough concrete of the roof, tracing the indents. “Lofty words from a former foster kid,” he said, his words quiet in the darkness of the night. “You know it is never just a key. Last year, you gave me a key and called it home.” When he turned to look up at Andrew, he was surprised to see a dark intensity in Andrew’s stare that threatened to swallow them up like a black hole. “It’s been so long since I’ve been able to call someplace home.”

That deep, expansive blackness overtook the hazel in Andrew’s eyes, and his face twisted in a scowl. “Do not look at me like that. I’m sure as fuck not your answer to whatever problems you are running from.”

Neil smiled, sadly, unable to keep the despair out of his voice. “I don’t need an answer. I know I’m unsolvable. I just want to stop being  _ nothing _ for once in my life.”

“Tough,” Andrew said. He took the last drag on his cigarette and crushed it beneath his heel. “You’re a Fox. In case you haven’t noticed, that means you’re always going to be nothing.” A wisp of smoke floated up from the cigarette butt under his foot. He ground it harder. “I hate you.”

“No, you said ten percent of the time, you don’t hate me.”

“Ten percent of the time, I don’t want to kill you. I always hate you every inch of you.”

Neil shifted under Andrew’s unyielding stare, trying to read into the blackness of Andrew’s eyes. It threatened to swallow Neil, to let him join Andrew in whatever hell he spent his days in. The smile that touched the corners of Neil’s mouth reflected the wisp of belonging in his chest. “Every time you say that, I believe you a little less.”

“Good thing I didn’t ask you,” Andrew replied, his hands already moving. 

In the space of a breath, he closed the distance between them and brought Neil’s face to his. Neil smelled cigarettes and aftershave and then Andrew’s lips were on his. Neil’s heart stopped. It restarted twice as fast as every bit of the cold air around them sublimated into heat. Andrew kissed him. His kiss was heavy, like breathing underwater, like falling through the sky without a parachute, and Neil reached out to steady his existence on Andrew’s skin.

He remembered just in time that Andrew didn’t like to be touched, and tangled his fingers on the edge of Andrew’s sleeves. 

Just like that, Andrew pulled back, and put a hand between them. “Tell me no,” he said, his words small puffs of warm air.

Neil couldn’t. There wasn’t a universe where he could tell Andrew to stop kissing him right now. His heart pounded a staccato beat, and his hands shook, not from the cold. 

Andrew pulled Neil’s hands off of his coat and shook his head. “No,” he answered for Neil. “I’m not going to do this with you like this.”

“Like what?” Neil asked, but he knew better than to reach out for Andrew. He sat back on the roof and watched Andrew try to light another cigarette. 

“You’re in the middle of a mental breakdown. I will not take advantage of that.” He crushed the cigarette in mid-drag, letting it drop to the ground. He lit another one.

Bit by bit, Neil’s racing heart eased back into a normal pattern. Andrew smoked his way through the second, then third cigarette.

“People try to tell me you don’t care. I’m going to fight them all,” Neil finally declared.

Andrew scoffed, flicking the ash over the side of the building. “92 percent,” he said. “Dangerously close to 93.”

Somehow, that response felt better than if he had tried to reassure Neil. A new warmth began to spread in his chest, something steady and firm. 

“Thanks,” Neil said.

Andrew shook his head, and pointed to the door. “If you say another word, I’m likely to push you off the roof.”

“Go ahead,” Neil said, not bothering to hide the remnants of his smile. For once, it didn’t pull at his cheeks like his father’s smile did. “I’ll pull you down with me.”

The days passed, and they didn’t talk about the kiss. One night before bed, Neil spent two minutes trying to imagine Matt or Nicky going down on him. He had no reaction. He hesitated before imagining it was Andrew in his bed, and was rewarded with an excited little jolt of anticipation. Neil categorized it as something to investigate later. There was no point in trying to sort things out just to die a month later.

Still, when Friday rolled around the next week, and they still hadn’t talked, Neil was finally afforded with an opportunity to talk to Andrew alone in the dorm room. When Nicky went to borrow a movie, Neil took his chance.

“Question,” Neil said, considering his words from where he sat next to Andrew’s beanbag chair. Andrew turned to look at him, hazel eyes even and unafraid of anything Neil could come up with. “Do you not like being touched because it does nothing for you, or because you don’t trust people to stop?”

Andrew tilted his head, his expression neutral. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters because I’d like to touch you,” Neil said, surprised by the honesty in the words. “But not if it’s going to make you miserable.”

“You don’t swing that way,” Andrew stated.

“It’s not swinging one way or another. It’s just you.” Neil didn’t know how to explain that there was no one else he wanted to touch; he was sure Andrew would just take it as Neil putting too much stock into them being soulmates.

Andrew shook his head and put up a hand. “Everything about you is a bad idea.”

“I know,” Neil agreed, plowing through the disappointment. Andrew wasn’t wrong. “But I still want to know where I can touch you. If I can touch you.”

“It’s not like I can just give you a map,” Andrew said. “It’s not that easy.”

“I don’t need easy,” Neil said. He kept the words  _ I need you _ to himself, because he wasn’t sure where they came from, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted them to be true.

“I need a ‘yes’ I believe,” Andrew replied.

Neil looked up from his spot on the floor by Andrew’s feet, and studied Andrew’s face, the tousled blonde hair half-tucked behind one ear covered in piercings. The deep hazel of his eyes. The way his lips were so pink, the way Neil remembered Andrew taking him apart with just one kiss. He wanted that again, as many times as Andrew would let him. 

“Yes,” he said, anticipation like rushing water in his chest.

Whatever it was that Andrew was looking for from Neil, he seemed to find it in that single syllable. He twisted out of the beanbag chair and planted a knee on either side of Neil’s legs, pushing him down to the ground and bringing their mouths together. 

Neil’s anticipation crested on Andrew’s lips, and Andrew kissed him with all the breathless force of a building hurricane. Neil let Andrew take him into the storm as they kissed desperately, like drops of rain finding each other on a glass window and rolling together into something bigger than themselves.

When Andrew put a hand on Neil’s chin and stroked his jaw with his thumb, Neil thought he might burst into flames. Andrew slid his tongue into Neil’s mouth, and Neil tentatively returned the favor. Andrew sucked lightly on the tip of Neil’s tongue, the sensation exhilarating, sending sparks down Neil’s spine. 

He would have been content to stay with his body between Andrew’s arms and legs forever, but all too soon, Andrew sat back on his heels. He considered Neil with an unplaceable look. A few seconds later, Nicky was back in the room. If he noticed Neil’s flushed cheeks or the redness of Andrew’s lips, he didn’t mention it, just showed his haul of movies for the night.

Neil settled back against Andrew’s beanbag, not close enough to touch him, but close enough to hear him breathing, and it calmed his nerves, kept his focus in the room he was sitting at, and not a hundred miles away in Castle Evermore. 

~

As the playoffs continued, Exy spread into more and more of the cracks of Neil's life. He tried to take notes in class, but ended up drafting plays and running through line ups, imagining which of their backliners he'd start against which strikers. 

He met Kevin at lunch and took turns running through the previous day’s practice. Kevin had a way of honing in on every minor imperfection, but more and more, Neil was starting to see how important that ability was. He took Kevin's too-sharp criticisms and passed them to Dan, who could usually find a way to deliver corrections without demolishing everyone's spirit. Whenever she couldn’t smooth over the rough edges, Renee would work her magic, and the team surged forward, gaining whatever ground they could in skills. 

Neil gave his all at practice, ran laps around the campus between classes, and fell asleep sitting on the roof with Andrew. When he opened his eyes, legs stiff from being folded against the concrete, he saw Andrew staring off into the distance, calm and contemplative.

Somehow, he knew Neil had woken up.

“Trying to grind yourself into nothing before our next game?” 

Neil tiled his head to the side, trying to work out a crick in his neck. He stood up on sleep-numbed feet, and stretched, pushing against the low brick edge of the roof. “Was I out for long?”

“Twenty minutes.” 

Andrew didn’t have a new cigarette in his hands, so it was impossible to say how much time had actually passed. So Neil believed him.

“And you still think it’s worth it,” Andrew said, answering his own unspoken question.

Neil glanced towards Foxhole Court, forever visible in the distance. “Without a doubt.” 

“Junkie.” 

“Wanting to do my best and wanting to win isn’t a bad thing,” Neil defended himself. Whether he was trying to convince Andrew or trying to stave off thinking his too-constant thoughts about death, he wasn’t sure. 

“You do it at the expense of yourself,” Andrew said lightly. 

Neil almost missed the way Andrew played with the edge of his armbands for a split second before busying his hands with a cigarette.

It was impossible to explain to Andrew how he'd be dead either way soon enough. A huge part of him wished Andrew was enough to save him from Riko. From his dad. From the tangled web connecting them.

Assuming his death meant Neil didn't have faith in Andrew and that wasn't quite true. His very bones ached with the understanding that Andrew would give everything to protect him.

“And why?” Neil said aloud, unable to piece together  why  Andrew would promise something that could cost his life, too. “Is it because we’re …”

Neil figured Andrew would think he was talking about himself, but the way Andrew narrowed his eyes made Neil realize Andrew had picked up on his train of thought. Andrew’s look was sharper than Neil’d ever seen. It cut through him the same as any of the knives that scored his skin. 

“Don’t,” Andrew began, but it was too late.

“Soulmates.” Neil finished.

Andrew took a deep, long drag on his cigarette, blowing out smoke from between pursed lips. The sharpness disintegrated back into his carefully arranged blankness. 

“Whatever you might be thinking,” Andrew said, his words calm but his syllables clipped just enough for Neil to drown in the bottomless darkness Andrew was drawing from. “Don’t. Us being soulmates means less than anything you can imagine.” He held Neil’s gaze like the Earth held the moon and gestured to his armband. “If we were bound together by the red string of fate, I would cut it.”

Neil didn’t falter. “You told me once that if I tried to put a leash on you, you’d break me. But…” The words he wanted to use didn’t quite describe the energy building under his skin, like he was standing on the edge of the roof with Andrew and they were both about to jump into something unknown. “I think you handed me the end of the leash ages ago and expected me not to notice, and now you’re scared that I might be holding it  _ with _ you instead of against you.”

Andrew tilted his head, just enough for the moonlight to catch a sliver of his neck.

“I want you to kiss me,” Neil said. Of that one thing, he was sure. Everything else could fuck off until the morning.

Andrew turned away.

Neil knew better than to try to grab Andrew. He let truth color his words. “You’re right, though. It doesn’t matter. Being soulmates won’t  _ save _ us. You said it before. We’re Foxes. We’ll always be nothing. But I’d rather be nothing with you for a little while longer.”

The set of Andrew’s shoulder tightened, a warning sign. But before Neil could say another word, Andrew was facing him again, his hands on Neil’s face, and he kissed Neil with reckless abandonment. Neil balled his fists in his pockets so he wouldn’t try to grab Andrew for support, but his knees were fast fading the way Andrew was kissing him.

Tomorrow, Neil would wake up the same as every other day. But for right now, Neil’s world began and ended with Andrew, and it was almost enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I need to credit [Mae](https://twitter.com/maeby_baeby/status/1326665294501310465) for her amazing soulmate/red string tweets, which is where I got the inspiration for Andrew's line. Thank you for letting me use that.
> 
> Second, this is it! Next chapter is finally Andrew's POV. It makes me laugh to think that I really thought I could accomplish all of this in a 5+1 but to be fair, when I started writing this, I hadn't written in over a year and expected to write like 10k at the most. Whoops. 
> 
> Thank you as always for reading! It's been a pleasure to share these scenes.


	9. 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team plays their match at Binghamton University, and Neil goes missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for making it this far. It's time to bring this fic to the only ending it could have ever had, the ending that I imagined before I wrote a single word for this fandom. Thank you all for making posting this such an amazing journey!
> 
> Who's ready for Andrew POV???
> 
> As you might imagine, we're going into some of the events that occur after the Binghamton match, so please know that things will get very angsty, very tense, there's a bit of a hospital visit for Neil and a near-ish death experience, and it will ALL resolve in the end. No hanging angst here.

#  9

On the day the Foxes played Binghamton University, Andrew had a hard time opening his eyes. Five in the morning was a godawful time to wake up, but he’d managed just enough sleep to avoid nausea from his meds. He lay in bed for a minute, eyes closed and listening to Nicky rummage around in his room across the hall, probably tossing a few more things into his bag.

Nicky’s good morning a minute later was punctuated with a yawn, but his cheerful tone grated on Andrew’s ears just as much as the blaring of Kevin’s alarm a moment later as it started going off. Andrew threw a pillow in the general direction of the door; a muted grunt from Nicky let him know his aim was true.

The downside to his plan was without his pillow, sleeping ceased to be an attractive option. Andrew sat up in the bed, noted that Kevin was stalwartly sleeping through his now-shrieking alarm, retrieved his pillow, and threw it twice as hard at Kevin.

“Hu-what?” Kevin grumbled, rolling over onto Andrew’s pillow, still completely asleep. 

“You’d think knowing we’re going to play Exy would be enough to get him up,” Nicky noted, barely audible over the alarm.

Andrew strode to Kevin’s phone, plucked it off the desk, and put it directly on top of Kevin’s ear.

“...Jeremy?...” Kevin mumbled, as asleep as ever. “...what a surprise…” 

“You take care of this,” Andrew declared, brushing past Nicky.

Aaron was already in the kitchen, bleary-eyed and eating a bowl of cereal. Andrew ignored him in favor of getting down a bowl for himself. It’d been a month since Aaron had started forcing himself onto Andrew’s weekly sessions with Betsy, and he still wasn’t convinced that it was worth it.

Bee had told him to give it a few more weeks, though, and he was inclined to give her the very slightest benefit of the doubt. He absolutely did not care for the way Aaron kept trying to bring up Neil every time, as if Neil meant something. 

Neil meant nothing. He was just a very pretty boy that Andrew liked to touch. That was fine. That was safe. There was no way Aaron knew Neil was Andrew’s soulmate.

Andrew scowled at his cereal, the only thing in the room that hadn’t yet betrayed him.

Kevin’s alarm kept shrieking in the background.

A half hour later, they met the upperclassmen in the hallway, but Andrew continued downstairs ahead of everyone, including Neil, who Andrew did  _ not _ need to say good morning to. Neil followed him down anyhow, yawning every tenth step.

Andrew did  _ not _ find it endearing, and fuck anyone who tried to suggest differently.

Wymack met the team in the lounge, awake enough that Andrew suspected he’d already had half a pot of coffee. He tuned out Wymack’s “we can do it, we just have to survive the bus ride first,” speech, and headed to check his equipment one last time before letting Dan and Renee wheel out the racquets. His bag tucked under the bus, Andrew got on and headed to the back. He closed his eyes and slept for the first few hours.

After a too-early lunch of chicken and pasta, the Foxes were back on the road to Binghamton University with far too many hours left to drive.

Andrew headed back to his spot on the very last bench, ignoring the others as they shuffled seats in an attempt to stave off boredom with conversations. Neil seemed unable to make up his mind where to sit, glancing between Kevin and the back of the bus. Glancing at Andrew. Sometimes Neil’s body language was so obvious that it physically pained Andrew when Neil’s brain didn’t seem to process his desires.

It would have tugged on Andrew’s heartstrings if he had any left to tug, but as it stood, he did not.

Kevin’s face went from impatience to abrupt shock when Neil started down the aisle of the bus. Neil was halfway to Andrew when Kevin hissed out something in French. Andrew didn’t care enough to learn the language in full, but he made out that it was something about Neil’s game, and Neil’s furious retort at Kevin was unintelligible. 

Andrew liked that Neil didn’t back down against Kevin. A seedling of a smile tried to take root, tried to bloom into something Andrew couldn’t have, and he had to push it down. He had to do that far too often these days.

Neil sat down in the seat in front of him, and Andrew kept his gaze on the window, careful to pretend that he could ignore Neil’s presence. He couldn’t avoid watching Neil’s reflection. There was something like wistfulness on Neil’s lips, and Andrew wanted to kiss it away. He wanted to hold Neil close and listen to him breathe.

It didn’t matter. Neil was a pipe dream, and the fewer roots he let take hold, the less painful it would be when Neil left and took part of his heart with him. Andrew didn’t have any unessential parts left; he’d been cut down too close to the bone. Whatever Neil took, no matter how little, it would be too much.

Andrew emptied his mind and watched the asphalt and trees blur together as Wymack picked up speed. Seeing them in color had been an amusing distraction for the first, oh, five minutes. Of their first away game a semester ago.

A few minutes later, Andrew noticed Neil glance down at his phone. Neil’s face fell, imperceptible to most, but Andrew had gotten used to watching the set of his jaw. It was the only place Neil came apart when he was trying to hold his lies together. Neil pocketed his phone without typing a response. Andrew filed that away for later; for now, he watched Neil’s reflection watching him. 

Andrew wouldn’t have called it cute (out loud), but it was almost endearing how strongly Neil considered every bit of Andrew’s face. How did he not understand how obvious he was? Neil was a walking contradiction; smart enough to notice when Andrew had searched through his things, yet unable to piece together Andrew’s attraction until it was spelled out between them. 

Neil set his chin, and Andrew could count down the seconds between when Neil made the decision to speak and when he actually did.

“Hey,” Neil said, right as Andrew mentally counted  _ zero _ .

A little twinge of happiness sprouted in Andrew’s chest when he heard Neil’s voice. The bus passed by more trees and more asphalt, more cars and more trees. When the twinge finally died out, Andrew turned to look at Neil instead of his reflection.

Neil might not understand the look on his own face, but Andrew could place it; Neil was looking at him with hope and happiness in his eyes, like maybe they had something together. Neil’s face shone like maybe if he burned bright enough, even Andrew would be forced to agree there was something there.

“Stop.”

Neil’s intense gaze crumbled as he furrowed his brow. “I’m not doing anything.”

Andrew recognized that in the literal sense, Neil was right. There was a good chance that Neil wasn’t fucking with him and honestly had no clue how stupid his face looked whenever he stared at Andrew.

“I told you not to look at me like that.”

Sure enough, Neil’s jaw fell a fraction in a moment of confusion, and Andrew held back a sigh. It wasn’t fair that Neil looked adorable when he was confused.

Neil recovered and shook his head. "Andrew, I need you to break your promise to me. You need to let me fight for myself." His lips were earnest, his eyes overwhelmingly blue. But his jaw was tense, like there was something he wasn’t quite telling Andrew.

“Let me fight for myself,” were the words Neil said, but Andrew couldn’t place the truth under them.

“Explain.”

While Neil went on about zombie apocalypses and plans and going back for people, Andrew studied him, weighed the heft of his words against the likelihood they were truths. They weren’t facing the Ravens tonight, so it didn’t make sense for Neil to try to take back Andrew’s promise of protection yet.

Andrew wondered if maybe Neil was trying to pull back on the nothing they had together, trying to ensure that whatever seeds of hope had tried to germinate were cut down before they reached the light. It was a smart move. Neil might not know much, but he had to know that they were never going to go anywhere, soulmates or not. Neil was probably trying to protect his heart.

“You’re a different kind of suicidal,” Andrew said finally. “Bait. A martyr no one asked for.” It didn’t matter how deep down Andrew shoved those seeds of hope; whenever he looked into Neil’s eyes, they tried to grow up towards that light. Andrew needed to be firm. “The martyr no one wants.”

Neil seemed to absorb that targeted attack with the same placidity that he absorbed all other information, taking it in and twisting it until he saw only the part that fit his narrative. Neil’s shoulders fell, but almost right after, he pulled them back up and met Andrew’s gaze straight on.

“Only one way to be sure, right?”

His eyes were so blue. So filled with light, and hope, and dreams, and Andrew couldn’t have any of that. He had to turn away, because hope was still, even now, trying to take over the deep cracks in his heart. He needed to tear it out himself. “Don’t come crying to me when someone breaks your face.”

If the words were gruffer than anticipated, Neil didn’t seem phased by them in the least.

"Thank you."

Andrew watched Neil’s reflection in flashes; it was safer that way. If Neil didn’t want his protection, didn’t need Andrew, then why the hell was he still watching Andrew like his life depended on it?   


Andrew didn’t care for it, but before he could say anything, Neil blurted out the name of the town they’d just passed, and shared how he’d been through the area before. Unable to pin down exactly why Neil couldn’t let him go completely, Andrew turned back to him. He studied Neil’s blue eyes and knew that they’d been burned into his memory, no matter how he wanted to feel about them. It didn’t matter if it was a year, five, or ten decades from now; Andrew knew when he closed his eyes, he’d see blue.

He didn’t know whether to thank Neil or stab him. 

In exchange for Neil’s truths, Andrew shared some of his time moving to Colombia. He glossed over some of the details, but didn’t shy back from the full truth with what he did share; he knew Neil could handle that. 

Their conversation had a natural pause when the bus decelerated, pulling off the road to a truck stop. The rest of the team filed off the bus almost immediately, but Neil didn’t get up right away, so Andrew didn’t either.

Wymack paused to look at them, swallowed down a sentence that didn’t need to be spoken, and left the bus. Neil watched their teammates head inside, and it was clear he was doing the math: he didn’t want to get off the bus, but he didn’t want to be stuck on the bus another two and a half hours without stretching his legs one last time. 

“When did Wymack figure out about us anyhow?” Neil wondered out loud as he pushed away from the window.

“There isn’t an ‘us.’” Andrew’s reply was automatic, because the alternative was too big to consider.

Neil ignored the response, taking only the part that he needed. “He seems to be the only person who knows you only want to kill me ninety-three percent of the time.”

“Dangerously close to ninety-four,” Andrew corrected Neil. “Coach isn’t mired down in the day to day interactions everyone else sees. He gets a clearer picture.”

Neil tapped his chin thoughtfully at Andrew’s response. His eyes were too blue, like a rainbow after a storm. “Will you ever tell the others?” he asked.

Andrew shook his head, tired of warring against the hope in his heart. “I won’t have to.” Just for now, he let hope win as he got up from his seat and moved over to Neil’s. Neil’s confusion was written across his face, and Andrew wanted to kiss it away. “The upperclassmen are betting on your sexuality. They’re split down the middle.”

Neil’s confusion deepened with an adorable crease down the middle of his forehead before he shook his head and declared, “It’s a waste of time and money. Everyone loses. I don’t go one way or another. There’s just you, only you.”

God.  _ Fucking. _ Damn. It. Andrew could have punched the back of the seat in front of them in his frustration. Every time he managed to convince himself that Neil was trying to pull away from whatever they had together (nothing), then Neil would say something like that and fuck it all up, and hope charged out of the crevices of the scars in his heart, and it was so fucking bright that it hurt. 

“Don’t say stupid things.”

Neil smirked; surely he had to fucking know how that made Andrew feel, right? Except he really, really didn’t. The conversation they’d just had made that obvious. 

“Stop me,” Neil shot back, placing a tender, careful hand on Andrew’s head and pulling him in closer.

Andrew pushed his doubt to the side for long enough to wrap a hand around Neil’s neck and a hand on his thigh. Neil shifted underneath him, a firm presence. Andrew nipped at Neil’s lower lip and hummed his pleasure when Neil let him kiss him without any hesitation. The air he breathed was Neil, and the reality he clung to was how solid Neil was, and he couldn’t let that happen. Far too soon, Andrew broke off the kiss and got up.

He didn’t check behind him to see that Neil followed, but he heard Neil’s footsteps. No one could see him in the sunlit parking lot, and Andrew allowed himself a quarter of a smile. Neil was so far gone on him that he’d follow even when Andrew offered nothing but a half of a kiss. 

When they reboarded the bus for the final time, Neil followed Andrew to the back again and leaned against the window, napping. With the rest of the Foxes entertaining themselves up at the front, Andrew spent most of the last two hours watching Neil sleep, and wondering how he was going to survive when Neil wised up and left him behind.

That night’s game was loud, like the buzzing of an insect swarm. From the sidelines, Andrew focused on the ball, tracking its movement as it went from Bearcat to Bearcat, intercepted by a Fox, pass, rebound, pass, collision, dropped. Picked up by a Bearcat striker. Renee guarded the goal well enough within her abilities the first half, but the Bearcats still scored six times. 

Andrew wasn’t surprised to see Neil barreling his way towards him the last minute of halftime. Did Neil even notice how Aaron dodged out of his way? Neil had eyes only for Andrew, and the rest of the team had to be denser than Neil himself not to see it.

Of course, when Neil opened his mouth to talk, it was about Exy. 

“Can you shut them out?” Neil asked, his cheeks still red from the rough and tumble first half, his eyes glowing with the adrenaline of a recently scored goal.

Andrew considered the court with an even eye. The countdown on the big screen to the next half should have helped him feel something, maybe excitement, but it wasn’t there. The Bearcats would be playing a fresh offense and looking to score, but they were repetitive in their drills; not enough time spent on new plays in practice. Their coach ought to realize that they only shot successfully from the right side and fix that. 

Neil was watching the clock though, and trying to suppress nerves. "Can you?"

Andrew considered laughing. Of course he  _ could _ . But the Foxes only needed three points to advance. They’d advance regardless.

“Why should I?” 

Andrew hadn’t even taken a step, but Neil’s hand was in front of him. Neil had all of his armor on and couldn’t crowd up into Andrew’s space, but he got as close as he could.

“We need you, Andrew.” 

Andrew should have known better than to look into Neil’s blue eyes. There was that  _ hope _ again, the hope that Neil wasn’t just asking for Andrew to shut out the team, but for him to be a part of the team, to be someone who could make Neil proud.

“Not for free,” Andrew ground out, unwilling to give in so easily. 

Neil opened his goddamned mouth and promised, “Anything.” His eyes matched his words, and the honesty was written on every inch of his face that his helmet didn’t cover. 

The moment hung between them as time stretched out in an odd sort of blip. Andrew’s heart cracked open another degree and he couldn’t shove all of the tendrils of hope back.

Deep, deep down, he told himself Neil just wanted to win the game. That was it. Nothing else. 

Nothing more. 

Andrew strode to his place in the goal and took a ready stance. That alone was challenge enough for the Bearcat strikers, and they came at his goal with more finesse than he would have given them credit for, having watched the first half.

Andrew met their attempts, his racquet a blur of orange wood whenever the Bearcats were near.

Deep, deep down, Andrew knew that Neil would promise him anything, and he’d still leave when he realized that Andrew couldn’t promise him the same. 

One of the strikers feinted a solid left and slammed the ball to the other striker, who shot immediately from the right. Andrew couldn’t swing his racquet around in time, so he threw up his hand, the ball slamming into the glove so hard his fingers vibrated. He gripped the ball in near-numb fingers, tipped his head at the striker in a ‘ _ better luck next time’ _ taunt, and flung the ball down the court.

Even deeper down, Andrew hoped that maybe, just maybe, if he shut them out for Neil, Neil would stay.

The Bearcats dug in, trading new trick shots for solid attempts on the left of goal, and Andrew acknowledged that perhaps their coach knew at least one trick. He wasn’t anywhere near tired yet, but if his backliners didn’t get the strikers out of his face for a while, he was going to get there. 

“I’m pretty sure Wymack didn’t replace you with a sloth at halftime, so can you get to the ball before their strikers at least once out of every five attempts?” he shot down the court at Matt. 

After Matt got over his initial twitch of surprise of Andrew acknowledging him, he buckled down and started riding his mark harder. Andrew worked on Nicky next, chewing him out for letting the striker out of his range.

Nicky full on turned to look at Andrew for a moment before grinning and calling out to Matt. His striker still dodged him a few more times, but Nicky tightened the gap a reasonable amount. 

When the final buzzer rang, Andrew nodded in satisfaction. It hadn’t been as perfectly executed as he would have liked, but there was no way Neil could argue with the results; at the end of the game, the Bearcats remained at six points. The Bearcat’s strikers had gone for Nicky and Matt out of frustration in the last ten seconds of the game, starting a brawl that Andrew remained on the outside of. He looked down the court to see Neil dragging Kevin towards him as if he needed a presentation on ‘Kevin is safe.’

Neil didn’t have a chance to say anything before coaches and referees were flooding the court to untangle the fight and he had press duty after the game, so Andrew went ahead to the showers. 

He stood under the warm spray for a long while. Going hard for his half of the game had left a pleasurable ache in his arms, and his hand was still thrumming from blocked shots. He took an extra minute thinking about Neil. Neil had promised him anything if he shut out the game. Andrew had looked in his eyes and saw that Neil had meant it.

And Andrew was starting to dream about what anything could mean between them. He closed his eyes, trying to crush out that dream. The more he dared to dream, the more it would hurt in the end. But it was like trying to convince Neil not to talk about Exy; it wasn’t possible. Andrew got out of the showers and dressed. He was the first one in the lounge, watching with an unaffected eye as his teammates trickled in, bringing the electricity of the win with them. 

“Incredible game,” Matt said, when he came in and saw Andrew. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Andrew just nodded. He was waiting for Neil; the showers had stalls, so Neil didn’t need to wait. It was odd for him to not be here yet. Not that Andrew counted the minutes until he saw Neil. Time stretched out and still Neil wasn’t back. Nicky came in before Neil, and he chirped about Neil finishing up in the locker room, which helped ease sudden nerves Andrew wouldn’t admit to, not even in a court of law.

No one else noticed as several more minutes went by; they were all busy recounting their favorite plays and fights of the last two hours. Even Kevin allowed a single smile at their win, though he was lightning quick to point out each area for improvement.

When Nicky jumped up from the couch and called a greeting to Neil, Andrew’s shoulders eased down and he let out a nearly audible sigh of relief. Luckily for him, no one was paying attention to him; they had all turned to greet Neil and bring him into the party. 

Instead of joining the excitement, Neil flashed a half smile and said, “I’m sorry.” 

Andrew frowned. Neil’s tone was far too somber for the win they’d just pulled off, far too full of grief to be about taking too long in the shower. He pursed his lips, watching Neil’s every movement. 

A sinking sensation settled in his stomach. Perhaps this was the moment Neil was thinking about running. It didn’t quite add up, but Andrew hadn’t spent twenty years of his life watching things go his way.

He got up and padded across the room, stopping in front of Neil. He studied his face, checked the set of his jaw; Neil’s mouth was tense, a set trap waiting to spring. He knew Neil would see the question in his face and didn’t bother to put a voice to it.

“Thank you,” Neil whispered, his voice just loud enough for Andrew to hear. There was a pause that stretched like an endless chasm, and Neil added, “You were amazing.”

The finality in the statement was perplexing. Neil’s jaw was tense, but he wasn’t lying. Andrew didn’t drop Neil’s gaze and for a long, spinning moment, the world revolved only around the two of them looking into each other’s eyes, uncertain of what the other was finding.

Wymack called for the Foxes to head out, and the security guard nearby jerked his head in the direction of the door. Neil turned away, and got in line to leave with the team.

So he wasn’t running, not yet. Andrew’s mind churned through possibilities and outcomes, trying to figure out where Neil’s out-of-character mood change had come from. Was it possible that he had so misread Neil that this was an actual truth coming out and he’d missed all the previous signs? 

Andrew didn’t have a chance to probe that line of thought because moments later, they were outside, and the Bearcat fans were screaming at them and hurling crass insults. A bottle flew through the air. Aaron grunted in pain, and Andrew turned to the crowd, eyes narrowed. He’d almost picked out the culprit when another bottle flew their way, and then a shoe. 

Security guards swarmed forward, trying to push back the crowd, but Andrew saw a cooler flying their way. He shoved Kevin out of the way, and the cooler cracked on the ground where Kevin had been. Violence erupted everywhere. 

Andrew spun to make sure Kevin and Neil were safe, but people slammed into them from all sides. He growled, unable to keep his eyes on both Kevin and Neil in the crush of bodies. It took a moment, but there was Kevin. At least he was tall enough for Andrew to watch. 

Neil wasn’t as easy to find.

Andrew grunted as another person stumbled into his path, pushing him out of the way and trying to make it to Kevin. Someone screamed too close to his ear, and he turned around just to catch an elbow to the side of his face. Pain blossomed across his temple into his ear. Andrew braced his feet on the asphalt, and pushed whoever it was with all his might. He thought he heard Neil up ahead, so he shoved through, heading in the direction of the Fox’s bus. When he got close enough to Kevin, he grabbed Kevin by the waist and all but picked him up and dragged him to the bus.

Kevin fought for a moment before realizing who’d grabbed him. “Where’s Neil?” Kevin called, his voice barely carrying over the angry shouts and screams.

“I’ll go back out for him,” Andrew said, depositing Kevin at the door of the bus, where Wymack had managed to unlock it and pushed Kevin in. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Wymack said, but he was scanning the crowd and a nerve pulsed on his forehead. “Let them clear the crowd. Where are the others?” 

“I don’t know,” Andrew replied, ignoring Wymack’s instructions and diving back into the chaos. He used his smaller stature to his advantage, dodging between fistfights and darting through openings between shoulders. When he couldn’t fit, he made space, startling more than a handful of people who didn’t expect such a strong shoulder check.

He kept track of where he was by the lights of the stadium, and estimated that he was about where they had been when the fight broke out. Andrew scanned the rioting crowd as methodically as he could before a glint of orange caught his eyes and he dodged between two sets of hips, grabbing the distinctive heavy racquet. At the edge of another brawl, someone was stomping over a duffel and Andrew, fingers tingling with what might have been sudden fear, forced his way over. 

He picked up the bag, confirmed it was Neil’s, and began the trek back to the bus.

Wymack opened the door for him, and Andrew got back on the bus with Neil’s racquet and bag and no sign of Neil. Wymack and Kevin both stared at the bag, and Kevin started searching the pockets immediately, before coming up with Neil’s cell phone. 

The door opening made them turn as a group. Allison had made it to the bus, the only visible injury fingermarks dug into her arm. Kevin moved over to give her space.

“Ok.” Wymack took a deep breath. “So Neil is currently unaccounted for. What about the others?" 

Outside, the crowd finally began to separate as the extra energy diffused. Ambulances began creeping into the parking lot, first responders and police officers working to triage the injured.

“Let’s get out there and try to find everyone." Wymack decided.

Andrew flipped open Neil's phone to check his messages. There was a text of a random zero from a number he didn’t know. The last phone number that called his phone was from an area code he didn't recognize. 

“Anyone know this number?” Andrew asked, trying to keep his voice even.

Kevin’s face went sheet white. “That’s from Baltimore.”

“What’s the significance, Kevin?” Andrew demanded. His voice was not even. He stared at the digits as if they could speak. He dialed the number back, but it cut off immediately to an “out of service” message. 

“Neil’s family was from Baltimore,” Kevin managed, his eyes on the ceiling of the bus like he was trying to imagine an alternate story to why Neil’s phone had a zero and a number from Baltimore. 

Andrew got up in Kevin’s face, so close he could see the flecks of brown in the deepest green of Kevin’s eyes. “What. Family.”

Kevin closed his eyes like a prayer. “His father. Nathan Wesninski.”

Allison clapped a hand to her mouth. “The  _ Butcher _ of  _ Baltimore _ is Neil’s father?”

“He’s in jail, though,” Kevin muttered. “Neil’s safe. He has to be ok.”

“It was on the news last week. Wesninski was released on parole,” Allison said, slowly. 

Realization dawned on her face at the same time what little blood had been left in Kevin’s face drained, and Wymack shoved Kevin on the first bus seat before he could pass out and hit the floor. 

“I’m searching the stadium again,” Andrew announced. 

He got off of the bus, mouth set in a firm line as he digested Kevin’s information, and moved quickly, checking each ambulance for a protesting Neil. He blocked out  _ what ifs _ , compartmentalizing with ease.

In his next sweep of the area, he circled out farther, scanning all areas, from the brightly lit stadium sections to the dark cracks between them. People were still everywhere, but cars were beginning to leave. Andrew’s world lurched. He couldn’t find Neil.

That tingling sensation in his fingertips, was it really fear? He’d seen Neil’s scars. With a murderer for a father, Andrew could put together where Neil had gotten a good handful of them. Andrew got out his phone and started dialing out, calling for the numbers of the nearby hospitals. He ran through the Foxes roster for each. By the time he circled the stadium for the fifth, frantic round, he’d located Dan, Matt, Aaron, and Nicky at two of the local hospitals. 

None of them had record of a Neil Josten.

When Andrew boarded the bus with this news, Wymack’s mouth set in a straight line. “We need to get everyone here and figure out our next step.”

That was when the first sweep of color started to drain from Andrew’s vision, leaving everything a little duller, like he was looking through a dirty window. He froze, reaching over to Kevin and roughly yanking his head towards him to see his eyes.

“What the hell, Andrew?” Kevin ground out, but his lips were still pale and there was no hear behind the words.

The emerald green of his eyes had faded into a murky, pale green. Andrew stood perfectly still for just long enough to process what was happening. Just like before. Like when Neil had been under Riko's knife.

"They're fading,” Andrew said, holding up his hand. The pink of his skin had faded into a muted pastel, the visible veins a contrasting almost-pink. “I’m starting to lose my colors again. He’s in trouble.”

Allison snapped to attention. “Do not tell me Neil Josten is your _damned_ _soulmate_ ,” she hissed. 

That didn’t require a response. The only thing that mattered was finding Neil. “I’m going to Baltimore. Now.”

Wymack called out and Kevin yelled something, but none of it reached Andrew’s ears. He threw himself out of the bus, making a beeline for the edge of the parking lot. He found a car with two students making out in the back, and banged on the window. 

“I need a car.” Andrew pulled Neil’s wallet out of his pocket and shook out several hundred bills. “This is my deposit.”

The students looked up at him, half drunk, half stoned, and completely confused. “It’s yours, man. Park it at Mountainview when you’re done.”

Andrew was on I-81 before the hour closed out. The only thing keeping him from doing over 100 on the interstate was the bit of color that still filtered in his vision, cars still distinguishable as reds, greens, blue. 

Blue like Neil’s eyes.

Andrew wanted to see Neil’s eyes again so badly it was like a weight lodged in his throat. It was like his heart had cracked open, raw and messy and bleeding, and the only thing that would put it back together was seeing Neil again.

His phone rang, and Andrew took the call going 90 miles an hour.

It was Wymack. “I’ve got the others and we’re heading down to Baltimore. Update us when you can.”   


Andrew grunted and tossed his phone onto the passenger seat. Silence was horrible company for his thoughts. 

Neil had said  _ thanks for everything _ . 

Neil had said  _ you were amazing. _

He hadn’t meant just on the Exy court. Neil had meant everything. Neil had promised him anything. 

Neil was dying.

Right as Andrew reached the outskirts of the greater Baltimore area, the little bit of color left in his world began to fade even more. The car in front of him could have been blue or gray. He hoped the semis he blew past on the right shoulder were in desperate need of a wash. Andrew stepped on the gas, no clue where he was supposed to go, beyond  _ Baltimore _ . 

Neil had said,  _ let me fight my own battles _ .

Andrew’s phone rang again, and Andrew groped for it, grabbing it on the third ring.

“They’ve got him at the hospital,” Wymack’s voice came across. “At Sinai. FBI just called. Something about his dad, a shoot out, I’m not sure. They called him Nathanial. They don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

Andrew nearly crushed the phone in his grip. In the only stroke of luck he’d had in his miserable life, the signs for Sinai Hospital showed up for the next exit. Andrew floored it down the ramp and took the corner with tires squealing. The hospital loomed, huge and impassive on his right. The lights stayed green long enough that he didn’t have to run the reds, but he wouldn’t have braked for anything short of a train. 

He took the first open parking spot and ran up to the doors of the hospital. The woman at the front desk smiled. Her glossy lips were gray. “Visiting hours are over at nine pm, please--”

Andrew took the only deep breath he’d take that evening and put on a smile that would never grace his face again. “I’m looking for Nathanial Wesninski.” 

Her smile faltered. “We don’t have anyone by that name,” she said.

Andrew thought maybe he could see a flicker of red on her lips. If he cut her face, would she bleed in gray?

“He is mine,” Andrew said, his voice clipped. “Patients can have one visitor overnight.”

“Not in the ICU,” she said, and paused when she realized her mistake. She glanced back, presumably looking for a coworker to help manage the situation.

Andrew took the opening and dashed down the hallway. He saw a sign for the ICU at the same time an overhead security alert went out with his description. The stairwell was around the corner; Andrew took the stairs three at a time and emerged on the fourth floor just as the tired security guard at the desk started to look up from his phone. Andrew didn’t have to work hard to figure out which room was Neil’s; FBI agents guarded the door. 

Their uniforms were shades of gray, and somewhere nearby, IV pumps and monitoring machines chimed loud alerts. A nurse and a doctor strode to Neil’s room, and Andrew used the moment that the FBI agents stood to the side to barrel across the unit. 

Someone shouted at him to stop, someone else screamed, the FBI agents were ordering him to stand down, but Andrew didn’t stop until he’d gotten into the room. Neil was in the bed, a blanket half pulled up his legs and a gown over his body. Tubing from four different IV pumps ran into three IV sites, including a unit of blood. The blood was a dark, deep gray. 

He stumbled to the bedside. Neil’s face was half burned, dried blood crusted still to his cheeks. His face was so very pale. Cuts and burns covered every inch of his arms and Andrew was vaguely impressed that the nurses had managed to start three lines on him.

Andrew put one hand on Neil’s shoulders before the surprised FBI agents got themselves together and grabbed his other hand and pulled him back. The sudden movement shook Neil’s body, but he didn’t move. One of the monitors started shrieking an alarm.

For one agonizing moment, Andrew’s world stopped. 

Several of the nurses materialized out of nowhere, crowding into the room, one of them dragging a cart and shouting for them all to move out of the way. Just as they were about to climb into the bed and start CPR, Neil opened his eyes.

He blinked, like the weight of his eyelids was too much to handle.

The alarm stopped. The nurses stood at the ready, waiting to see if Neil would pick consciousness or attempt to die. 

Neil blinked again, his eyes opening just long enough for him to register Andrew across the room. He caught Andrew’s gaze and stared as though he was the only real thing in the room.

His eyes were beautifully, brilliantly blue.

THE END

*

*

EPILOGUE

The clean, clear water of the lake lapped up at the shore. The beach was more rock than sand, but Neil didn’t mind–sand was too close to memories he didn't want to sift through right now, but the rocks were rough on his bare feet and kept him grounded.

The last few months still seemed like a dream; they had been crowned champions, they had beat the Ravens, and they had somehow managed to buckle down, study, and finish the semester. Neil had surprised the team with news that he was paying for their celebratory vacation on the last day of finals, and they’d headed to a beautiful lake several hours out from campus the next week.

The first few days at the cabin had been a blur of drinking, celebrating, and kissing Andrew in the quiet nighttime hours.

Tonight though, while everyone else celebrated their win in town with copious amounts of alcohol, Neil had needed a night off, a night to regroup and convince himself that it wasn’t all a dream. That he wasn’t about to wake up back in his father’s basement. 

He hadn’t missed the looks the upperclassmen gave each other when Andrew had announced he was staying home tonight too, though Andrew hadn’t said it in so many words. He had simply given his car keys to Renee, and she had smiled.

Andrew kept pace with Neil as they walked along the waterfront. They ended up all the way down to the lighthouse, just walking slowly. Halfway there, Neil had reached out his hand, waiting for Andrew’s response. Andrew had paused, but regained his stride a moment later, and slipped his fingers between Neil’s. It seemed right, just like everything else they did together. 

With the sun setting over the water, Neil found a sturdy bit of driftwood to sit on and watch. After a minute, Andrew sat down too, pressing their thighs together. He put his hand on Neil’s leg, and Neil put his hand over Andrew’s.

“Not too bad for our second vacation ever and, coincidentally, our second vacation together,” Neil said as they watched the sun color the sky deep purple, smoky pink, siren red. “The others seem to really be having a good time.”

Andrew scoffed, the soft ghost of a smile behind the noise. “You might have forgotten, but we beat the Ravens. It wouldn’t have taken much for them to have a good time. We’re still Foxes. You could have stocked a cardboard box with booze and we’d have made it work.”

“Comments like that make me think that even you’re having a good time,” Neil added, tracing fingers on the back of Andrew’s hand. “Might even expect you to try at practice next year.”

“I’d like to think that someday you won’t be such an unrepentant junkie,” Andrew tossed back, but his eyes sparkled with a dangerous light Neil had never seen before. 

He thought maybe he saw it reflected in his own eyes, too. Not a lot, not enough to light a whole fire, but maybe enough to light a cigarette: hope.

The red streaks across the sky toyed with Neil’s memories, and he blurted a question before he could think to keep it in. “Would you still cut the string between us, if there was a string between us, if you could make us not be soulmates, would you take that away--”

Andrew took Neil’s face in his hands and silenced his rambling questions with a soft kiss, as gentle as roll of the nearby waves. Neil hummed his approval in Andrew’s mouth, and Andrew wrung him out on a kiss, the kind of kiss that smoldered deeper and warmer until Neil’s whole world was alight. Only then did Andrew break the kiss.

“People like us,” Andrew said, his lips dark and his cheeks flushed as pink as the sunset, “We don’t get anything handed to us. Soulmates implies that we didn’t have to work for it.” He gestured between himself and Neil, leaving his hand heavy on Neil’s chest. Neil was sure he forgot how to breathe as he stared into the deep hazel of Andrew’s eyes. “People like us have to work like hell for every breath we take.”

Neil thought about his years living in fear at home, his years living in fear on the run, his borrowed time at Foxhole Court and his deal with the Moriyamas, and he thought about Andrew. Andrew, with his fear of heights and his warm, rough hands, and his blonde hair that shone golden in the setting sun. Andrew, with his scars hidden by black bands, and his knives, and his mouth. Andrew, and the way he seemed to slot into the holes of Neil’s life. 

He nodded.

“So yeah. Fuck being soulmates,” Andrew said. “Because what we have, we’re fucking working for it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TA DA!!!!!! Thank you for reading!!!!!!! I sincerely hope you enjoyed this ride, and would love to hear from you!
> 
> Find me on [ tumblr](https://mystrana.tumblr.com/) and [ twitter](https://twitter.com/Mystrana_) where I try to be social!


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